


IZ: "What We Must Live With"

by InherentInTheHumanCondition



Series: The Woo's of Abnormality. [1]
Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Character(s), Alien Culture, Alien Virus, Also more Trigger's posted prechapter, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Feels, Good Parent Professor Membrane, Great Parent Computer (Invader Zim), Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Irken/Human Professor Membrane, Invader Zim: Vampken's AU, M/M, Main Trigger's:, Major Character Injury, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Not Canon Compliant - Invader Zim, Not Canon Compliant - Invader Zim: Enter the Florpus, Older Dib (Invader Zim), Older Zim (Invader Zim), Original Character(s), Partly Irken/Mostly Human Dib & Gaz Membrane, Queerplatonic Partnership, Queerplatonic Relationships, Shit forgot these Tags;, Trans Dib (Invader Zim)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:48:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 55,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26780908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InherentInTheHumanCondition/pseuds/InherentInTheHumanCondition
Summary: A job to kill the Chupacabra seemingly presented via their former group, The Swollen Eyeballs felt too simple. So, 20 something-year-old Dib Membrane can’t understand any reason for Zim an X-invader of all people to back down. And who does that Green Scummy Bastard get off ordering him not to go either?Dib should’ve realized by now. ~Zim has years of survival instinct. He’s livid through blackouts, assassins, including Dib himself, his own crazy and just about everything else the universe has thrown the Irken's way.~ That for once the voices in your head advising you not to do something aren’t as outrageous or as crazy as you. Sometimes swallowing back notions of being in the wrong for the fire of one’s pride shouldn’t be ignored. And sometimes one’s forgotten fear is the universe’s instinct of reason.Because as often as Dib loves to speculate Zim is unaffected by death, but even he's still made of flesh and bone.Written by; InherentInTheHumanCondition, with my co-conspirator Tumblr user; Tr333333.
Relationships: Dib & GIR (Invader Zim), Dib & Minimoose (Invader Zim), Dib & Zim's Computer (Invader Zim), Dib/Zim (Invader Zim), GIR & Zim (Invader Zim), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Professor Membrane/Zim's Computer, Zim & Zim's Computer (Invader Zim)
Series: The Woo's of Abnormality. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1984309
Comments: 16
Kudos: 71





	1. A taste of prologue...

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, bear with me, this note will be long. 
> 
> First off credits for this AU Idea goes to Tr333333’s art of Vampire Zim found Here \- They later did a piece for this AU Here. I later did a non-canon written piece of this AU as a thank you for that artwork. I’ll post that starting November first on my A03. I also want to thank Bamsara’s Feral Zim art found Here and Here for more inspo.
> 
> *All together I want to thank both of them, just in general. Their Zim and Dib have been a love of mine since before I even knew there was a whole big ass IZ fandom. Their babies are the light of my life and I always find myself returning to their works over and over.
> 
> I also want to thank my not on Tumblr Best Friend's 2B & Sharky and on Tumblr; Rox who listened to me day in and out about writing this, as well as putting their critics when I asked. 
> 
> Secondly, I’ve never posted a story by dishing out a chapter once per week, or in this instance two, and then the rest will be posted once per week. I’ve always been _‘A post it all at once, get it over with and hold my breath as I wait, kinda guy.’_
> 
> **I figure the schedule will be clockwork. The first page will be today the 30th and first chapter tomorrow on the 31 of October. Then every chapter after will be once a week on Saturday; no set time, just random throughout the day is as best as I can get it down. 
> 
> Also, I decided to keep the deadline as promised; even though I have not finished the story. But I’ve already written 80K+. As well as satisfied with what’s been written so far and how it flows and such. So, I’m not worried about an accident that screws the ending or an ending screwing up what has been written. 
> 
> You want to thank anybody for this coming out on time, thank my best friend 2B. They are one who talked me into doing it this way.
> 
> Lastly, this is my first EVER written Invader Zim story involving canon characters. I’ve written small stories for my Original fan made Characters, but never with main character’s.  
>   
> Also, this the first in a long time in which I have publicly posted an Original AU idea story (Not counting the small ZaDr snip on Tumblr for Tree.) or even a multi-chapter story; since the year 2013. When I was active in fandoms. 
> 
> **Ok, Actual STORY NOTES;**  
>  I’ll tag triggers by chapter and only the big triggers will make it to the tag system. (This can be changed If asked by reader’s.) 
> 
> I also won’t tag character’s who will not be a focused and constant presence within the story. (This can be changed If asked by reader’s.) But I will note them here, so you are all aware of who makes a cameo.
> 
> **Character’s found in this story;**  
>  _Canon Characters -_  
>  Gaz Membrane  
> Professor Membrane, known as Ambassador of the new Earthen Aligned Alliance and Earth’s Leading Scientist.  
> Prisoner 777, known as Ambassador of the new Vortian Aligned Alliance and Vort’s Leading Scientist ‘Lard Nub’.  
> X Invader SKOODGE, known as Choosen ‘Skoodge’ (with the new Irken Aligned.)  
> X Janitor TAK, known as Choosen ‘Tak’ (with the new Irken Aligned.) 
> 
> _Original Characters_  
>  X Elite Invader Sivark, known as Green Witch Kravis.  
> Queen Mínt, Queen of New IRK and the Leader of The Irken Aligned Alliance.  
> My IZ Original Species - Thief and War bred Giant Moth, Śhadō.

Static white hangs within the room like the bowels of a cavern.

 _Plip - plip - ploop_ of vital liquid and biological matter falling between razor-sharp teeth. 

An overheated _whirl_ , _whooshes_ and _hums_ in the backdrop, looming.

“ **Ma- _ZiM_** ” A whispering voice, electronic and deep reverberates in the modest space; from nowhere and yet everywhere. It bounces off satin, dark walls fluffed with light grey spaceship prints and smeared in crimson and blackened with infection.

Under it the environmental noise, a _hushed_ and _muffled_ heavy breath convulses; wet as the mess it’s surrounded in… stops.

Nothing, no response. 

A body’s _shuffle_ , burdened by the universe that disturbs a silence; that is not peaceful. Then a long, _guttural_ growl follows the distinct sound of nails ripping as they shredded fabric with a catch and pull.

“ **I b-beseech, _please_ , allow myself to at _least_ contact, Professor, _if_ not Dib.**” it’s tone, bordering hysterics; caught in the collapse of its world ending. “ **I-it is _not_ too late, it’s not _your_ fault… We _can_ still-**”

What answers back is animalistic and torn. The _shrill_ cry of a dying creature lost to the darkness it drowns in.


	2. The Pride of Mysterious Mail, and the Chill of Late Night Calls Whispering Misfortune...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pᴀsᴛ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ﹐  
> Bʀᴇᴀᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ.  
> Sᴀᴍᴇ sᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴠɪsɪᴛ  
> ɪ Nᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴘᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴏʀ.“  
> 
> 
>   
> _Insanity is doing the same thing, over and over again, but expecting different results._ ” ― Narcotics Anonymous 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooo! Technically, my first chapter here, aksjhdajhldka and we are already getting to see some beautiful concerned Dad Membrane and little sister Gaz!
> 
> And a snippet of Dib’s twisted sense of self. Because, forewarning, this boy is not pure of heart. My Dib has his many issues. Issues he’s well aware of. Most of them, however, he doesn’t do anything to change his words or actions, even though he understands he hurts others, like his father, but usually ZiM, which will become more evident as story progresses. 
> 
> But he’s not only one with issues. My ZiM has his own set of problems. Issues he is also well aware of and also rather ignore or outright not care that they directly hurt others, usually himself and Dib, but sometimes Computer and on small occasions Gir.
> 
> They are also capable of soft, sweet and loving moments, because they do have their good moments. They just don’t live in a black and white world; they are deep shades of gray, especially to each other. They're both obsessive and possessive and see each other, more so Dib, as possessions; so prepare for their relationship not be healthy and abnormal to the real world that doesn’t make it into their tiny narrowed views of one another and themselves. 
> 
> Also, although this first chapter is tame outside Dib’s foul language and quiet for triggers. As the story progresses triggers will raise their nasty little heads more and more. 
> 
> **On a last note** , because I feel this should be said. I remind readers this story is Queerplatonic-relationship (ZaDr)/Queerplatonic-partnership (ZaDf), but it does view as leaning more towards the “ZaDr” aspect with their Squish’es’. But there will be no sexual intimacy at all *At least, in this story*. I can assure you; handholding, cuddles, naps, kisses and such will be as far as anything goes for them here. Although Dib does think sexually towards ZiM; often pointed in some of his thoughts, actions or comments. My ZiM is asexual and so Dib is more than happy with whatever his Alien will give, which comes and goes based on with his moods.

The unmistaken sound of Professor Membrane’s boots clomping up the basement stairs. Filtering over the sounds of the sci-fi horror ambience of the game she’s developing.

A yawn, Gaz paused her game, placing the control down with a quick glimpse at the clock informing her it was late into the evening or early dawn. However, you catalogued well past midnight. 

This wasn’t unexpected, her dad had been that way her entire life.

As a child, Gaz convinced herself she never cared about any of it; never home, brother’s misery and torment. The shouts, fights and words of cruelty between Dib and dad, the birthdays and holidays both missed. All those occasions she ate alone or her brother or robot were the ones to feed her,

It took her brother falling apart and his nemesis, who claimed to be his ruin, be the one to reach out and pick Dib like a damaged toy. Another child discarded. For Gaz herself to realize now her only parent actions had scared and hurt her to a great degree. Dib just expressed his better, still does. And so it had made it easier for her to blame her brother, for all their issues. Instead of the man who needed to take responsibility.

But Zim couldn't make her brother work as the alien thought Dib should. To continue their by then mock fights. The Irken did something she’d never expected he’d ever do. Zim didn’t blame Dib as they did. He got into their father’s face and called him every unpleasant, but true things he’d heard Dib refer to their father as.

And the extraordinary happened, whatever Zim had said, when he took their father down into his labs, shook him to his foundation. She still doesn’t know what it was. And perhaps, because she rather not learn what scared Professor Membrane into compliance and changed behaviours.

Their father took the time for his family; holidays, family dinner, birthdays, random vocations, or times he remains out with them to see what they are doing. He asks them questions about their lives and to teach him how to partake in their hobbies. Their father even since then has avoided putting down her brother’s paranormal interests as lesser science or not science at all.

The only occasion before he informed them of their DNA history, her dad would shut down. Was when one of them mentioned aliens, which was mostly Dib. Except by then, it was more like urging them, pleading Dib most of all to stay down there on earth, rather than to get lost in the clouds. OR, the imagined terror of something worse.

But Gaz finds the most rewarding out of all the transformation is their father got Dib’s support; like god to honest help. Not the sort he’d done before with forcing her brother in the sanitarium with humans that didn’t pay attention to and didn’t understand Dib. Thinking he was crazy and beyond aid. 

Though, nobody knew at the start that Dib’s new therapist was one of the many aliens that they now know live among them. Masquerading around as a human even before Zim was a thought. Even her brother couldn’t see through their disguise until allowed. 

Their job to work with families like them. Able to cut out issues humans claimed were the problems like aliens and monsters and getting down true to the heart of her brother’s actual issues. And Dib, he’d gotten better. Sure, he relapses and still ignores things he shouldn’t for the easier way out. But he’s in a place better than she’d ever known him in all his life.

It took her some getting used to all these changes, though. Dib, however, to this day hasn’t. And likely she’s confident he never will. Break down the barrier their father put between them and her brother proceeds to rebuild for protection of his shattered trust from ever experiencing that rejection again.

Thought’s lifting to the present as her dad calls her. She looks away from the still screen of the Tv, over at him, brows raised in silent questioning.

A soft _whirring_ noise _murmured_ in the now _stagnant_ house. Before a silver PAK leg extended from behind his back, “Gir and Zim, **didn’t** show tonight.”

It would always be a sight to see. Her father no longer looked all that human. Even after all these years of him willing to reveal his real self. At least within their home, and around various places her dad found safe. It still felt brand new to her.

No longer was Professor Membrane hidden by an advanced hologram by warm brown skin like them, inherited from their Mexican grandfather. Now her dad’s skin took on a cooler desaturated yellow. Like the pale silver of the moon. A tint of green or brown depending on the lighting.

And unlike her and her brother, whose noses and foreheads were like their grandfather’s and eyes with depth within their face. Their father's caught between that of a human with a nose and bridge. And that of an Irken; more of a flattened slope from hairline to his lips, with less of a brow line that has no brows now. A small margin of a bridge of his nose except where it comes out to meet the tip of his nose to his very thin lips and a small chin.

Glancing at her dad haphazardly shoving his black goggles with large blue-tinted lenses further up his forehead. It was clear how his eyes sit more on the surface of his face, then in-depth like them, exposing his once human eyes. Why still human-shaped, now take up more of his face. The whole of his eyes now all bright golden iris, no white in sight. Unlike Irken’s, their father’s eyes don’t glow brightly in the dim of a room or reflect when they catch certain lights. Because they are all organic, where Zim’s were technically augmented.

“Zim messaged me _about_ a week ago or so.” She spoke, realizing that, although presented to her as something he already knew and should not require an answer. There was an edge to her dad’s words. An edge of worry he was attempting to hide from her, for whatever reason. “It was _short_ and _to the point_ , **not** like him.” She shrugged. “Apparently Dib did something _incredibly_ stupid this time and they’re fighting,” pulling her legs up on the couch and turning to face her dad. “Zim wants a **break** from the Membrane household and _anyone associated_ with us.”

To be fair. She’d spent half her life wanting to get away from her family. It was about time Zim stopped clinging to her brother like a lifeline. Not that it would last, it never lasted.

Her dad, busy unbuttoning his white lab with his hand that now had only four fingers, why the other hand held out his long black rubber gloves; for a PAK leg to take a hold off and quickly disappear behind him. Glanced up at her words, his antennae that had been twitching lost in his thick black shiny hair, rose as if in alarm. Before dipping down to show excessive worry and then returning to a natural lull.

When her dad still had said nothing back. Lost in his own head. She let her mind wander and allow that worry she had been shoving down to blossom. “They’ll be right back to demanding each other’s attention as soon as Dib finishes up the week’s finals and comes home. Those two _can’t live without one another_ , given they share 1 brain cell and Dib’s uses it for classes.” _She wasn’t sure_ , though, what she had said _was for her benefit or his._

  


Scratch of the pen to paper stops, leaving only the soft _hum_ of electronics in the emptiness of a too-quiet apartment.

Lips pressed, and brows scrunched together, Dib stared down at the papers scattered across the tiny, round, rickety table; placed between the small living room and a smaller kitchen. A _groan_ , hand having cramped up for the last couple hours, he places his pen down. 

He’s exhausted enough he’s sure he could fall asleep right here on the table, without a single sleeping pill. And there’s a _bone-deep disquiet_ that lingers just under the slow pace of growing agitation. Of each passing day, Zim has answered none of Dib’s phone calls, video chats links, text messages, or emails.

If Dib didn’t feel so shitty, so guilty about their last assignment from The Swollen Eyeballs and how it ended. He realizes if not for that. He’d long ago banged down the door of the Bastard’s house. Demanding that Scummy Green Roach tell him what he’s up to. 

Hurt, although Dib would never admit it, for being ignored. He huffed, taking off his glasses, and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

He should call it a night, anyhow, he’s been at the same couple of paragraphs for hours. And they still don’t look right. In fact, Dib swears there are more issues now than an hour ago. He’s well ahead in his finals, and there’s no actual need to cram like most of his classmates. Dib supposes he should thank Zim’s absence for that miracle.

Even call Gaz or their father. Who Dib hasn’t spoken properly to other than there agreed upon once a week. To let them know through a text that no, he hasn’t died, yet. And yes, he may or may not be eating right and remembering to shower and brush his teeth or hell change his clothing. Not, however, bothering to make that appointment to see his therapist, Ma’tay. When Dib knows he needs to. Not that they know that, because he’ll never hear the end of it.

It’s just even though none of them have anything to do with what happened. Dib _knows he is the one who screwed up this time_ , and badly. He just doesn’t want all those questions and the judgment or scrutiny. He does that enough himself. And he does not want acceptance either, which they both will unsolicitedly give. 

He’s just stuck on the admitting opening **he’s wrong and needs to apologize**. Not the other way around. And the biggest issue is he doesn’t want to be honest with anybody, not even himself. At how much what happened and why he reacted the way he had, has to do with his own recurring issues. His own feelings of deep-buried and puss-filled hurt that **he won’t** _allow to heal_. No matter if the right people apologize and all attempt to help him heal.

It’s finally almost break, Dib’s stoked. He’ll get to go home and see his little cursed makeshift family. He swears is equivalent to some fungal infection that’s grown on him. Ok, so not that bad. He just loves to complain about them. **He might say he loves them** , but _never to their face_. They were just another mountain to climb. Another crazy way his life is livid.

It’s not like Dib can’t see them whenever, though. They provide him with many ways to keep in contact. Like through video transmission, a normal phone call, text or email. On special occasions, they even showed up, unannounced, to take up space within his tiny apartment.

A tiny apartment Dib pays for with his own money he gets working freelance photography. It wasn’t as much as he used to make hosting his show or what he’d make working for his father. But he gets to work his own hours. And nobody bosses him around or were they up in his business. Best of all. He can decline any client or job offering that he wasn’t interested in. And because of his low standards. Unlike most uppity photographers. There were more jobs for him to work with and they were as exciting as they are bizarre and often dangerous.

As Dib has outright refused help from his father. And as for Zim, perhaps if he got a normal job, even if it was working for Membrane labs. Or better yet, if his Alien would just sell all those stupid inventions he’s created collecting dust and clogging up all Computer’s empty storage compartment labs. Rather than stealing his funds. Then Dib would think about allowing Zim to meddle in his life and help buy a bigger place, so the Bastard can stop bitching about his place being too small. Black and kettle, if you ask Dib.

- _DING_!- The silence of thoughts broken by a little bell.

Followed by the automatic electronic voice of Computer. “ **Dib, a letter from, ‘ _Swollen Eyeballs_ ’, awaits your approval.**”

A gift from Zim his first year of college. With a cute static version of Computer speaking pre-recorded messages and using a word algorithm that helped put words together that hadn’t. 

In order to help Dib feel less alone.

On the bed, Dib rolled over to stare at the glow of the screen Illuminating the darkroom with the announcement. As he decides between rolling back over and NOT sleeping and instead continue to stare at the wall. Not in the mood to get up and take his pills. Or reach over to find out what, after all this time, that group could want with him.

Curiosity got the better, as it always did.

Reaching, he dragged the laptop off the desk. Before sitting it up on his chest. Eyes narrowing at the bright light glaring into his soul as he clicked the **[ _Do you wish to read_.]** button.

It seemed some things had changed with the society since he’d last spoke to them. For once their logo looked tons more professional. Although…

“ **Really** , Agent Moth _men_?” Dib snipped, _soured_ by that.

Also, the letter itself, why detailed in **some odd things** , it wasn’t as thorough as _previous_ in areas it needed to be. But, whatever. It just gave Dib something to do in the meantime. And it had, he mused, been a long time since he had done any real research on cryptids.

With a confirmation, he replied that he would take this job. But also warned them he wouldn’t be open for more than this one, at least until after this school year. For after final’s he’d be returning home for another year, relax, fuck around as he wished. Not that he wasn’t doing his own thing now. Before back to college to finish up the last of his four years, as nice as it would be to have more of his old days of normalcy. He had to remember to keep his routine’s. Because one missed moment and he’ll spiral back out of control.

Also, Dib’s sure Zim, Gir and Computer would be ecstatic to do something other than stuck at home in that horrible, boring town. Especially his Alien, now that he wasn’t chasing down Dib, or dodging Irken rebels; who blamed him for The Massive disappearing and The Resisty getting the upper hand in the war.

Not that his Space Boi per se needed him to keep busy. Sometimes Zim left Earth to go visit other people and other places with Gir and Computer in tow, for their needed vacations. Sometimes he’d even go over to Membrane labs to work on a project not his own. Yet another request from their shared Therapist. And sometimes random aliens. Irkens included; both new and old who they’d befriended or more so been drawn in and befriended his Asshole. Would come down or over to bother Zim. They were great at keeping his Alien from holding up inside his labs or his living room on the couch to mope because Dib wasn’t there.

It’s just, even to this day they were so _dangerously codependent_ it was just tragic. Their Therapist has considered them a point that no matter what they said or attempted to fix would not change. Only getting them to at least admit that their current relationship wasn’t healthy. Not that they did anything to change that knowledge. And **warned them that one day this would get them both killed.** Because the thought of one without the other one or both of them doing impossible fate and universe defying stupid shit, without a single thought other than to ‘Save’. As if all common sense stopped existing between the two.

Placing the laptop back, Dib amused himself with how little he worried with either of them dying. If there’s one thing Dib can count on, even in the darkest of hours. It’s that Zim’s a roach; cut off the head, and he’d keep going like a battery buddy. He wouldn’t or could not die.

The universal joke is; _that his Alien alone could outlive every **ugly** undoing_ of all others. And after all this time. Dib’s sure that twisted fate is now a part of who he is. A part of every person or being touched by Zim’s presence.

At least. The ones he hadn’t on accident killed or purposely did so. But Dib didn’t count all those who fell before his Bastards unthought-of consequences. He was sure that if Zim didn’t want somebody alive subconsciously or consciously, they'd shuffle into the ‘you are not immune to death’ category all living things are.

Dib had a whole thing of evidence to back his theory up. TAK, for instance; Zim thinks she’s annoying and kind of scary, not that he ever admits that. But it’s clear he enjoys having her around now and then. So, she survived the war, despite all against her as an Empire Aligned Irken. Lard Nar is strange and kind of annoying, but trustworthy and important, survived the war too; despite being the Resisty leader. Lard Nub and his kids, Zim loved them and so they too survived despite being in the Empire’s way. SKOODGE even put through the rigger by the Asshole survived. Why? Because his Alien hadn’t wanted them dead.

And for that, Dib had made the mistake once of telling Zim this theory. When trying to cheer him up out of gloom and doom. Calling him God of Fate, because it been a moment of stupid weakness. And he’d never heard the end of Zim’s sudden ego that had grown as vast as the universe itself. Dib didn’t regret it, but hell would freeze over before he EVER complimented Mr. funky zipper mouth like that again.

Slapping the vibration aimed to rattle his brain. Dib grunts as he answers. Awaken from his naturally tired induced sweet dreams.

“ **Hello** , _MY_ Son!” A cheery voice, too awake to be legal, answer’s.

Eyes screwed shut, blink, before widening in shock. “D-dad?” Dib stutters. Whipping his head to look behind him, to stare or more-so squint. At the blinking blur of murdering red numbers displayed on the alarm clock; resting on the night-stand, beside his bed. Before giving up, because he’s too blind and too tired for that shit. Interrupting whatever else his father is about to say. “What time is it?”

The other line goes silent. Dib realizes his father must be down in the lab. Where there are no windows. And called, for whatever reason, without bothering to check, which is a little irritating. Because unlike the old man. Dib needs the same amount of sleep or pretty close to it as their full-bloodied human counterparts. It’s one thing to not sleep by choice. It’s a whole other for somebody to wake you up without thought to your needs.

“Oh!” Professor’s new tone says Dib is right. “It _seems_ to be 4:25am. I **am sorry** , my son.”

Before both their ends fall into silence. One that is not as awkward or filled with tension as the usual course between them. Dib, letting the irritation float away, can almost say this time it feels more like a pause between a breath. 

And the longer it goes. It feels sort of like a lullaby, long ago forgotten from when they were tiny ‘sticky smeets’ as Zim calls them, within their father’s arms. And Dib can fill himself, drifting off, further and further into the content feeling of quiet.

“M **mm** , iss’ _OK_ ….” Dib speaks up, shaking the lull of sleep before he drifts off to where he’d been beforehand. Realizing his father is waiting for him to choose if this conversation continued or ended. “What’s **up**?”

A vague ominous sound of Professor clearing his throat has the hairs on the back of Dib’s neck standing up. And like never tired. Sleep flushes away with the unwelcome visitors of sudden paranoia and worry. Both who are already threatening to bring along with them fear, as his heart picks up.

The background sounds of his father’s lab; the electronics _hum_ , the gurgle of strange “potions” and zaps of electricity are so clear now.

“Dad, **_what’s_ wrong**?” Dib sits up, grabbing his glasses as he throws his legs over the bed. Prepared either to be pissed at something stupid and not to be worried about or tear across the apartment to get dressed in panic.

Professor speaks, and he says without words, ‘Son, I am trying not to upset you or I am trying not to worry myself.’ but - “Have _you_ received word from your- I mean have you **heard** from Zim?”

“WHAT?! _No_ , I-” Dib replies, way too loud, and way too fast, not to alert his father to something a miss. 

Dib’s been loud himself throughout growing up. But being an unwilling and then willing partner of Zim for as long as Dib has. You sort of pick up all that stupid Bug’s bad habits, _like yelling for no reason_.

“- **not** for a few weeks, _why_.” He finishes, like a child that knows they did something wrong and has either been caught or knows they’re about too. 

That feeling he’s been _tossing off to the side_ and shoving under the rug comes **roaring back with a sinking dread**. 

Why would his father be asking such a thing, especially in the middle of the night?

Dib can hear his father’s no longer hidden worry at that announcement as he answers. “ **Neither** he _nor_ Gir made it here to your sister and their Game-a-thon, and why I would not worry normally. I have also **not heard** from Computer in _three_ weeks.”

“ **Hello** to you too, _my_ Dib.” ZiM spoke with hidden amusement, “What are _you_ joyous about in **my lab** ,” not bothering to turn from his project. “why ZiM _tries_ to work to **demand** the Almighty’s attention with _all your noise_!?”

“HEY!”

Pausing at the yell, ZiM glanced over his shoulder at his Earth~boi, who must require ZiM’s Almighty attention. 

A Dib~silly stands at the door of the lab. Where his Human won’t be yelled at for being down in his lab without protection why ZiM works. Bouncing on the balls of his feeties; like those scary beasts, ZiM and Dib-beast had met in Al-stray-ula.

ZiM shivered at the pain of being kicked in the chest by the living purse.

A large grin wobbling plays as Dib tries to play annoyed. But his tone’s amused and airy with excitement. “ **Asshole** , I just got home, you know.” Leaning against the metal frame of the forced to stay open door. “ _You know_ , Zim. You should be _crawling on the floor_ to **kiss** my feet and **tell me** how much _you missed_ me!”

ZiM’s antennae twitch in displeasure, “EH!” face twisting with his revulsion to such a thing. “What **nonsense** , stupid Earth~ _smeet_ ~child! ZiM kisses no feeties! _Specially_ **not** Stinky~Human feets that are not washed!”

Despite being heavily insulted on multiplications. Dib laughed brightly and without holding back. Clearly in too much of a great mood that Zim was now eyeing him with greater suspension. 

“ **Don’t be a _dick_** , I washed up, brushed my teeth, and **even** changed into clean clothing before coming.” Stepping forward, a few inches more and holding out his arms. “ **Come on** , _take a scent_ ,” 

Twirling around, Dib ran his fingers through soft but split ended shiny, clean and loose strands. Flipping his massive hair flux antenna. Then pulling at the black T-shirt with the spooky bubbly words ‘Man, this is some BOOO SHEET’ and little sheeted ghosts. Before flicking the collar of one of his random, almost ankle black leather jackets. This one with a zip front from the waist up and several straps across the front. Left open to show off a pair of Dib’s black jeans, in which Zim had styled. Much to Dib’s annoyance, by ripping several claw marks into the thighs when he got too excited and uncaring to Dib property. Black high-top goth army boots scuffed with age were even looking as if they’d been tossed in the washer.

ZiM’s antenna leaned forward and vibrated to double-check. As his Dib spoke. Finding truth in the _sweet-spicy_ soaps of his body and the _woodsy_ thing of laundry along with. - Antennae raised in alarm at the horrible, horrible scent of _cinnamon_ teeth cleanser.

Dib smirked at Space Boi’s alarm, chuckling to himself. Before continuing on as if he hadn’t brushed his teeth with that spice Zim forbade anywhere near his person. 

“ _I did it_ **just for you** , aw, aren’t I, so nice!” Before stopping to face Zim and continuing so he couldn’t even get a word in inch wise. “ **Plus**... I bring my _favourite_ Nasty Alien a present!” Waving a dark blue folder with white papers inside around in front of him. “Assignment from The Swollen Eyeballs. **I know** _you’re bored_ , Computer **thanked me** for coming home, says _you’ve been sulking_ again.”

Despite ZiM’s obvious irritation at the evil Dib~wretched has brought to his home. And his hesitation at being a part of yet another foolhardy investigation, which no doubt will lead to one or both of them getting horribly maimed in some way. ZiM finds himself putting away his current project and halfway across the lab. Claws outstretched in the universal ‘gimme’ sign.

Lighting up like a sunrise, Dib met his Alien halfway. Depositing the folder with all his research, both from recent evidence and old lore, into Zim’s awaiting and demanding hands. 

Hunched over his Bugged lizard who’d turned around to read. He made sure to breathe extra heavily as he spoke. “This **is** a good one, _Space boi_.” Ignoring being smacked in the face with Zim’s antennae and the low _growling_ of warning. “Although it seems like I did all the research, they said they had all the evidence they needed and just wanted us to kill it.”

Another slap of Zim’s feelers and a deeper _growling_ , _hiss_ and Dib got the idea. Backing off and standing beside him to give his Alien room or risk the old shrink-ray or worse more than just threatening to have his legs chopped off at the knee again.

Unlike him. Zim hadn’t gotten as tall as his dreams or his ego. His Roach Menace had stopped growing at the adorable height of five feet, even. Which Dib gave praise is pretty impressive coming from an Irken who’d previously been only four foot five. Dib likes to think he’d… grown... on his Alien. Or it could just be that his poor Bastard had no choice but to bow down to the fact Gaz and Dib were cloned from a half Irken who is a whopping six foot nine. To Zim’s horror that was taller than all The Tallest so far, at least without all their ritual stitching, yikes. 

“Choo- _poo_ -Kah-bruh” ZiM read out like a first-grader, frowning. “What a **stupid** name,” Standing straight and glaring up at Dib as if this is somehow his Human’s fault. “Why must all these **ugly** things have such _foolish_ names! ZiM does **not** understand!”

Dib raised a brow, not even going to correct the Asshole’s pronunciation that he’s pretty sure had been incorrect on purpose, just to Irk him, Dib was sure. “This _coming_ from a race that named-” he sucked in a breath, “ **ever mind** , forget I opened my mouth.”

ZiM narrowed his opticals up at Dib. One opened a little more. Lips coming to smooch together and antennae twitching forward in his Stinkies direction. Before he blinked, slapping his Human in the chest with the folder and papers. “ZiM **never** remembers when Dib~foolish opens his **filthy _traitorous_** fooding hole.” Before returning to stare down at what they wrote.

It seemed the Dib~beast was correct. Right on the first page, of what seems to be from the electronic written transmission, it states, underlined many times ‘ **objective is to _eradicate_ subject**.’ And what ZiM understands, but ignores, to be a snarky comment about how that shouldn’t be an issue given their record.

Instead, ZiM’s brought with old pride swelling within his core and squeedlyspooch like that of a zit. Laughing maniacally for a couple moments.

Dib groans. Despite enjoying, for the most part, nowadays, his Alien’s manic episodes, at least in times like this.

“YES! **RECOGNIZE** THE ALMIGHTY ZIM’S _ACCOMPLISHMENTS_! GREY AND RED EYE FACELESS VOICES! **ZIM** _SHALL_ **PROVE** ONCE AGAIN **NOTHING** FROM _THIS **HORRENDOUS** DIRT BALL_ CAN **DEFEAT** ZIM! HE IS A K-”

But, it becomes clear to Dib, before Zim even reaches the point of his evil speech his Alien’s about hit one of his trigger’s. Face scrunching up. But Dib can’t bring himself to make Zim shut up as he watches the train wreck. 

From his Aliens abnormally elevated and intense energy. That makes him the Little Lovable Bastard he is. To the point, his entire personality crashes and falls in on itself. Zim’s voice dying off like that car crash victim. Who’d ploughed right into one of his Scums invisible walls during one of their previous childhood fights.

At the start of them, as enemies, even as nemesis Dib would’ve pointed that weakness out with no issue and exploited it. Taunting Zim, as Dib ignored his own suffering, so similar to that of his Aliens. Even as he’s seized with rage at the Asshole for killing yet another human being. 

Dib had been such a shitty, hypocritical Bastard, and he still is.

“ **Don’t** forget to video call Lard Nub _before we leave_.” Dib pointed out. Knowing that by reminding Zim he isn’t an unfeeling, broken, killing machine. “The **Kildfs** will never forgive you. For not telling them _all about_ the strange and spooky Earth monster. You’re going to hunt with uncle Dib!” Is the only way to guide his Alien out of his own self-loathing hole.

Dib had learned _throughout_ his **whole childhood** life. How to get people to back off, even when all he wanted was their attention. It was _so easy_ , the things he could **bring forth** on accident alone to make people so _uncomfortable_ they politely or **rudely** excuse themselves.

Now, as an adult, he used it to the best of its ability **on purpose** , when he wanted space. Only so many people this trick didn’t work on or had never worked on, and _his father_ **wasn’t** _one of them._

He should feel bad making his old man uncomfortable enough to say goodnight earlier than Dib knows he wanted. But, although, Dib felt like he is going to owe his father in future for this wake-up call. At the moment, Professor is the least of his worries.

Saying a quick night, talk to you soon and **skipping** the _love you_ part with a simple you too. _Still_ unable to **stomach the words.**

Dib jumped off the bed. Racing around the room in the dark, almost tripping. He ignored the loud _-BANG-_ on the floor and the shout to shut the hell up just after, from the apartment below. Getting dressed. He emptied everything in his book bag onto the floor. Before throwing in his laptop, tablet and his tech tool bag. Picking up his keys by the door as he headed out and locked up.

Outside, Dib ran several blocks. Feeling the **burn** of his _lungs and legs_ until he found the parking lot he knew had no visible windows for somebody to look out into it or cameras to catch what he was about to do.

Heading off towards the back, away from the street view. Dib took the backpack off. Pulling out a small light. So he could search around for a vehicle with enough dust that he could guess they wouldn’t miss it, at least anytime soon, he hoped. 

Finding one, he traded the light for some tools. Making quick work of the primitive security system and lock.

God, he should have bitten the bullet and just asked his father for extra money to get himself a new truck after Zim lasered his baby into hot molten scrap metal. Then he wouldn’t be here, looking through a random person’s unkempt vehicle. 

Whoever owned this ugly thing was shorter than even Zim. Dib mused as he fixed the seat to accommodate his six foot three frame. Then got to work on the panel under the wheel and hot-wiring it. He’d learned this trade himself back in high school when he and Zim stole a vehicle to get out of a sticky situation. He’d been surprised it is pretty much similar to stealing a space ship.

“Yes!” Cheering when it started. He jumped in, closed up and pulled out. 

Glancing around before driving out of the parking lot and down the street. Having learned slow and steady leads with less curious eyes. He only took a breath when he’s several miles away and no cops have come to gun him down. Not that he expected any too. They were fucking shit anywhere. But in these parts and back home they were about as good as shit on his boots and about as lazy as pigs on a farm.

Closing his eyes at the red light of an empty crossroads. 

Dib thought back to that day he’d gotten that assignment. _He’d been as **excited** as he’d been a little **nervous**_ to be back on the road, bringing Zim something to do together. 

He’d didn’t think they’d ever get another chance at that part of their lives with their previous records. Dib can’t even count the number of jobs he or Zim have screwed up since his Alien started tagging along on them. Then there was college just as they kicked him out of the group. And the whole ‘Cryptid Hunters TV show’. 

Blinking, Dib realizing he’d missed the green light. Looking both ways to see if there was anybody around. He gunned it, vehicle jumping as it shot out into the road and kept going. 

He was still a little hurt and upset over the fact he’d lost the contract with network Nanogeddon. The VERY same television channel that had once hosted his very favourite show, Mysterious Mysteries. But Dib didn’t regret his decision to sabotage them and his TV show. After they threatened unknowingly to expose his Alien by snooping around where they did not belong.

Because yes, although, ever since Dib had been a little kid spelling ‘ghost’ and ‘aliens’ with his colourful blocks in his father’s living room. To love the paranormal or if you asked anybody else; he was and still is undeniably obsessed with all things normal humans took for granted. ( _At least he believed so_.)

Nothing could ever change that fact. Not the years of being looked at with disgust and called a freak by ever breathing and even none breathing human whoever looked at him. Not even being called fucking crazy by his own hybrid alien father.

\- Except for **Zim**.

_His Alien is and will **always** be the **exception** to everything._

**They were each other’s catalyst**.

They’d been through more together, through the thick and thin from enemy to _something more than_ what the human race could define for them. And Irken’s only now just started to return to openly.

To add Zim or Dib to either of their lives is chaotic to everything, everybody and even to themselves. Neither and nothing would change that fact. Even now understanding this strange phenomenon that the universe could never have ever predicted. Dib was never so sure of something then he was of that fact.

Take paranormal investing.

It had already been a madhouse of dangers. From the time Dib broke every bone known and then some not known to the human body, falling down a mineshaft looking for Tommyknockers. ( _Which in the end, even if Zim hadn’t been a part of that. Dib had only survived because his Alien had been the only one to come looking for him. After he’d gone missing_.) Almost being eaten when he raised a hoard of zombies, instead of only 1 or two. Catching a weird fungal infection that caused him to grow green mouldy fur all over his body, which his father had to treat; that had sucked.

But add his Alien into the mix of that and both his and Zims very lives took a stake 99% of the time. It became a **wild chaotic** game of **Russian roulette** of ‘ _how many times can we test fate_ ,’ before **one of them doesn’t come back**?

Their Therapist likes to believe that Dib’s life got even more dangerous when Zim became involved. Because _he subconsciously_ sees partnering up with his Alien as a means to go **buck-fucking-wild** and _forget_ he's _mostly human_ restraints and **even** his _own set of morals_.

Dib thought that was bullshit, right? He’d for sure almost ended up in the hospital plenty without his Green Menace. And had at least on three occasions for sure would have ended up in an actual hospital, if he wasn’t the son of Professor Membrane.

After all, that happened a couple weeks ago and fuck all their lives. _It is possible Ma’tay has a point_. Dib took riskier risks and **forgot he had brain cells** and _how to use them_ when with Zim. It was just, **he always assumed** when the tough got bad. _He could either throw the **Bastard under the bus** or **his Alien** would **find some way** to get them **out of the mess**._

And for Zim, Dib learned it was about two things; being a possessive Bastard and outdoing ‘his Human’. Proving something over Dib that caused all his Alien’s hardships. 

On Earth there is a saying; ‘ _Pride would be the downfall of humans_ ’ But it seemed this saying is universal to include Irken’s too. **And pride has _always_ been a _heavy burden_ for Zim**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, for the Hits. And for all those who read it and follow, Kudo'd, Bookmarked, Subscribed and Commented! Bless!


	3. A Failure to Communicate; Hurt Feelings, Angry Words, and Heavy Fear Induced Secrets.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **¸¸♬·¯·♪·¯·♫¸¸** 𝓡ᴜɴ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅɪ𝓼ᴀ𝓼ᴛᴇʀ  
> 𝓕ᴀᴍɪʟɪᴀʀ 𝓼ɪɴ𝓼 ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʀᴀ𝓼ʜɪɴɢ ɪɴ  
> 𝓐 𝓼ʜᴀʟʟᴏᴡ ɢʀᴀᴠᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ 𝓘 ᴄᴀɴ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ɪᴛ 𝓼ᴀғᴇ﹐ʜɪᴅᴇ ɪᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʏ  
> 𝓐ɴᴅ 𝓼ᴇᴠᴇʀ ғᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ  
> 𝓘·ᴍ 𝓘 ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ɢᴇᴛ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ﹖  
> 𝓜ʏ ᴏʟᴅ ғʀɪᴇɴᴅ﹐ɪᴛ·𝓼 ᴛɪᴍᴇ 𝓘 ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇʀᴇ  
> 𝓨ᴏᴜ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴊᴜ𝓼ᴛ ᴅɪ𝓼ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ  
> 𝓑ᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ  
> 𝓣ʜᴇʀᴇ·𝓼 ɴᴏ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴏᴍᴇ
> 
> **¸¸♫·¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬¸¸**  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Another chapter! It’s getting heated now.
> 
> **Trigger’s or Squicks for this chapter are** ; Mild Description of Injuries, Major Character Injury, Explicit Language, Mention of and none Descriptive Violence, Blood/Bleeding, // and just to be sure - Fighting and Gooey Touchy-Feeling Affections of Concern between Dib & Zim.

Pulling up to Zim, Gir and Computer’s now ‘ **Home** ’-base, which for a couple of years was even his own and still is Home _in a way nothing else has been._

Dib’s perplexed by what he finds. 

All that trip telling himself it’s the _paranoia_ talking and coming here is a waste only to find the Bastard down in his lab. Being a _petty irritated_ bug droning on to ignore him or likely, _moping_. **Vanishes in a puff of smoke.**

House still looked as _alien as ever_ , with their colour-blind scheme and no sense of human architecture. Now, however, there are a couple of recent additions. Things that were not there three weeks ago.

Such as the metal gate, that would hopefully now keep random animals out, not that any with common sense to realize a predator livid within should enter, although, it seemed not only are humans prone to _deadly radioactive levels of ignorance, so were Earth animals._

His Alien once blamed him, as if Dib controlled Earth’s atmosphere. That there had to be something in the air making them all unintelligent. And now it had inflicted Zim. Dib had responded by kindly sneering _that he was sorry to report that the Roach was just been born that way_. Zim broke a rib and bruised a kidney for that comment, and Dib got him back by kneeing the Bastard in his pointless cloned jewels, twice!

Then there is the new black security gate covering their front door, even in this cruddy neighbourhood that wasn’t something seen. Dib mused with a snort.

And with it matching security bars bolted down into House, covering the windows.

He must have a talk with his Paranoid Bastard about too much paranoia being the end of them all.

With a _sigh of exhaustion_ and stress of it all. Including being stuffed in a small box. Dib attempted to stretch. Head _impacting_ the roof, with an _oof_ and knee’s _smashing_ into the dash and wheel. 

Now irritated along with all those other fucked emotions. Dib _snatched_ his open bag from the seat where he’d tossed it and manoeuvred himself from the driver’s seat.

Out and finally able to unbend his neck and legs. Dib is close to tears of joy with the freedom to stretch out as far as he liked. Satisfaction in hearing what he’s sure is all forty of his vertebrae _crack_ and _pop_ , before _slamming_ the driver door shut; a God awful sound scaring a flock of pigeons and himself. 

Dib’s glad that it is not his baby, because the window _shatters_ and the whole thing shakes with the impact. He’s pretty sure that door will need prying open. Then again, his baby’s now lost out in the woods several states over and likely _a burnt-out shell._

‘ **Oops** ,’ He mused with a prideful grin. Forgetting sometimes _his body forgets he’s supposed to be mostly human_ and _abruptly_ has the _strength of ten-man._

Relieved not to perceive eyes on him or spot anybody peeking out their windows. Although, those who’d stuck around this long had learned long ago to ignore all the strange or normal sounds why praying that half their house or apartment still existed after. 

Digging through the backpack and his tool bag, Dib found what he’s looking for and placed a little black-boxed machine on top of the hood. A quick glance inside to make sure he had forgotten nothing, he _slapped_ the top of the device and _jumped_ back, the gadget activating with a _zap_ and the vehicles gone.

Done, he picks up the palm-sized box with a grinned and tosses it into the bag. Before heading over to the front gate, snorting in amusement.

A ‘DO NOT ENTER: VICIOUS MAN EATING DOG!’ sign, that is both a terrifying truth and hilariously _not so much_ , rested in the centre.

As if that would scare Dib away. Gir loved him thankfully not to death. Though the little dude had come too close a few terrifying times; _just as prone or even more so as their Master to accidents._

Entering what Dib believed, Zim had made the passcode. He stumbled backwards, wide-eyed when he’s instead **shocked** ; _a tingling starting at the fingertips spread all the way up his arm._

“What the fuck!?” Now annoyed. “SERIOUSLY ASSHOLE!?”

‘Fuck that shit.’ Dib thought as he turned away from the house. 

They’d raised the fence with both his and Zim’s growing body’s. So Dib couldn’t just step over it anymore, that was ok. He’d long ago _perfected_ his art in parkour. 

From the middle of the street. He took off in a run, vaulting over the fence; _legs swinging out and over, one-arm clamped to the fence_ , tablet in his mouth.

Mind racing to account for the ugly little lawn gnome’s lasers and how he had to dodge them as soon as he touched down, _except none came_. His feet didn’t even touch the ground. Instead, there’s a _flash_ of light occupied by a light-headed sensation that scrambled his sense of balance. And in a blink, Dib _slammed_ hard into the _unforgiving pavement_ on the sidewalk outside the fence.

Disorientated for a moment. Dib sits there, blinking in confusion. Before _**rage** washed through his veins_ at his realization. “YOU _FUCKING_ TELEPORTED ME!” Dib shrieked. 

There’s no answer. Not even somebody telling him nearby to **shut the fuck up** or even the wind.

A deep breath in, deep breath out, and a few more for reassurance. Dib lowered his voice. Assured if that Asshole couldn’t hear. Computer would be more than happy to relay what he said. 

“I realize I fucked up, _I’m-_...” Word sticking in his throat. “COME ON Zim, are you _serious_ , you _**fucking** alien_ dickbag?!”

Over the years Zim’s base security had gone from _trying to keep everybody and everything off his lawn_ why trying to keep an air of ‘I am a normal human.’ To just _trying to keep Dib from getting anywhere near the base_. That soon slowed down, and they allowed him more freedom to attempt getting inside and foil any plots or to spy. _To begrudgingly allowing him and Gaz, if she bothered, to get as far as the door._ Where either Gir, Computer or his alien would decide if they wanted or felt it was an OK day to let them inside or chase them off with warning lasers.

Then when everything happened involving Zim and The Empire it became _any alien, especially an Irken, attacked with pre-justice fury._

Seriously injured by the extra security measures should have been Dib’s first clue to who he was. Rather than chalking it up to a glitch, like everything the little space bug plays a part in. 

It should have been Zim and Computer’s realization, too. But over time thinking with his head on and without the hurt _shredded_ and _anger blinding_ him. Dib realized that Zim had been _far too unaffected_ when he called; _hating_ _his every cell and his father_ like never before. As he _demanded_ Zim, to come and get him **the fuck out of there.**

Even if that was true, it didn’t matter they held on to that secret. What _counted_ was during that time Zim and Computer had both been a _solid foundation_ when Dib’s _had fallen to ruin_. His Alien even assured him Computer had barred Professor from being within one-hundred feet of House. Even explaining that Zim made it so the additional security would shoot the vile parental unit of lies, to apply to Dib’s darker thoughts. 

Although, Dib did later figure out Computer and his father had already been well into their version of a _romantic_ relationship. And that Computer likely had been updating his father on his life away from the Membrane residence the whole time. So, Professor Membrane hadn’t even needed to visit until Dib was ready.

After The Empires fell. And The Aligned Groups made a peace treaty between Zim, Computer, the Membranes and asked for Earth to join them. Over time, Computer and Zim _added new and old friend’s_ singular DNA codes into the bypass security. 

In the last year or two with everything settled. From the war long over. Rebellions all but a memory and Dib no longer living at Home-base. ... _Security had laxed_. To a point, Dib joked Zim and Computer were asking for uninvited guests to creep around.

When Dib made that joke, he’d been and still was genuinely happy for his Space Boi. To see Zim’s life as normal and boring as it had never been before, no matter how much the bug complained he was fusing with the couch and getting flabby. 

‘BUT _THIS_ is _too_ **fucking** much, even for _**you** Irken Scum_ of paranoia!’

“ _You_ know what!” Dib says, raising his voice as loud as he could, before screaming, “ **YOU**... think _you_ can keep _me_ out, Zim!” Dib’s wide eyes narrowed, before _filling with glee_ ; a large wide smile etching across his face.

A deep forgotten thrill snuffed out; _by their suffering, boring old age, and the bond they created_. Prickled his insides, burning from within the confines of his obsession and need for danger.

“ **Oh!** ” 

Staying right where he’d fallen and ignored the fact anybody could see him sitting here. He’d never cared, and when he did, it was a passing thought of true crazy _at wanting to be seen as norma_. 

“ **You’re _on_** , Alien Roach.” He said, jabbing a finger at the home-base. “When I get in there Asshole, **I’m going to _wreck_ your world!**”

“NO!” Zim _screeched_ into Dib’s face; bits of _saliva spraying_ him as the Bastard _tossed_ the stakes of papers back.

And here Dib thought _everything was looking up_ , too.

Taking a moment to take a deep breath and not get into a screaming match or a fistfight. After several intense minutes, Dib asked, “And _why_ the sudden change, _huh_?” **wanting to understand** ; _that’s all he’s asking for, all Dib’s ever asked for_.

Zim, who’s about to leave the area, turned around, _hissing_. “Because Zim has said NO! **Foolish** deprived of sound human! **_End_ of communication**. AND Zim _wants_ the Dib _nowhere_ near that Choopuhkahbruh!”

He’s more than irritated now. 

Dib’s ok with Zim’s personal decision to say he doesn’t want to go. Annoying as it is to have the Asshole change his mind, particularly when _Dib’s excited and nervous about spending time together_. Dib’s used to that. He just had to remind himself it’s Zims free right to do so. However, the fact the insane alien’s here deciding for him; like _that bastard of a father his whole fucking life_.

“ **No** , _this_ ” Dib jerked his arms between himself and Zim. “isn’t the _**end** of communication_. _This_ is **not** a transmission. You _can’t_ cut me out like that Zim. We’re **not** kids anymore, we’re **not** enemies. _We are equals_ and _we are friends_. If you don’t want to go, **fine**. You don’t even have to tell me why you’ve changed your mind. BUT, YOU WILL _NOT_ tell me what I _CAN_ and _CANNOT_ do. DO _YOU_ UNDERSTAND! **Especially** when you won’t even _give_ me a reason.”

“ZIM NEED _NOT INFORM_ THE HUMAN WHY! ZIM SAYS _NO GO_. DIB DOES _NOT GO_.” Zim’s entire body _tense_ and on edge, eyes _wild_ like a _cornered animal_...

For a moment Dib _faltered_. Something in him _wanted to heed_ , as requested. Zim looked, well, he looked _**downright petrified**_. But, if anybody ever said Dib wasn’t just as _bullheaded stubborn_ and _thick_ as Zim. _They must live under a rock._

“FUCK OFF _OH-SO_ HIGH AND MIGHTY.” Dib said, finding his voice raising to match Zim’s. Feeling that _thrilling burn_ from confrontation with a being who could if he had ever wanted too, _smear_ Dib _all over the place like jam_. As a **bitter rage** also accompanies him. “I _AM NOT_ YOUR FUCKING BITCH! YOUR _NOT MY FATHER_ AND FUCK EVEN IF YOU _WERE_ FUCK THE BOTH OF YOU! I DO THE FUCK _WHAT_ I WANT. YOU _AREN’T_ STOPPING ME ASSHOLE!”

Petty it was so very petty, childish, and so them.

Crossing the room so fast. All Dib has is muscle memory from a life of fighting the Bastard preparing himself for what feels like _a brick wall_ to slam into him. Before the two throw blows, tasting blood and giving each other concussions. 

_No doubt_ will bring Computer and even Gir from upstairs to break it up. Before the two killed one another or at least _came close_ to doing so. Because even as equals, and something more than best friends the two of them often get caught up in the past. Going overboard as they did everything else in life.

Dib, admiring the additional security, grinned. _He was wrong_. The security on The Massive _hadn’t been this juiced_. Not that Dib’s invalidating Zim’s hacking skills, even as kids. 

Not only are there multiple firewalls now, but _isolation_ and _end-me-traps_ everything. On top of being heavily compartmentalized. Dib felt like _a rat in a maze_. Every corner a chance it kicks him and he’d have to start all over again, or worse, it locks him out forever. 

At least, he should have been a couple of times. _Because fuck, did Zim or Computer_ , most likely the former **really not want anybody in.**

Except for a while now, Dib felt as if he wasn’t alone. And he’s not talking about the _odd-looking mangy stray_ sitting at the corner of the street since he pulled up, creeping him out. He meant he wasn’t the only one hacking. 

After the first several intense breakthroughs, Dib started seeing signs of somebody piggybacking off him. He almost _crashed_ his whole attempt. Thinking an unknown enemy was trying to get in, before stopping to realize the hacking’s internal. The only people that could mean are Zim or Computer. And Dib highly doubted Zim’s helping him break through the firewalls to open up security for access.

That’s a jarring realization.

Those quiet whispers that made him say _**fuck his finals** to drive down here in the first place_. Got louder pulling up, are now in full force. Either Zim had done this, leaving so many questions needing answers. Or worse, the possibility that somebody else had done this. Either way, Computers locked out from admin privileges. Explaining why his father hadn’t heard from anybody and why nobody has been answering Dib. 

_Hacking_ the security centre, inputting his DNA coding he’s saved for something like this, so he’s ignored, but still keeping up the security. In case there is an unknown presence at play. Dib then took the teleporter offline.

Everything in check. He got off the floor. Back and neck _protesting_ more so than before, from sitting _hunched_ over his computer on an _unforgiving sidewalk_.

Staring up at Home. A _fist clenched at his chest_ , pack on his back, tablet in his other hand. Dib spoke, _steel_ in his voice. _Determination burning_ in him. “OK, Computer. _I don’t know what’s going on_ , but **I’m coming in** ,” 

Computer is _fuming_. By the time it separates the boys in different rooms. Despite them refusing to speak to each other, and Zim refusing to speak to anybody at all.

“I just **don’t** fucking _understand_ him, Computer!” Dib said, _snapping_. “One-moment Zims agreeing to go with, the next he’s _flipping **shit**_ as if the shadows are out to get him and _me_....” Before finishing in a _whisper_. “Paranoid _little_ green bastard.”

“I cannot attest why Master’s so adamant in not going, as I am uninformed of any reason you should not go. Other than the indisputable.” 

The last of Computer’s words and tone _make it obvious_ to Dib they’re _not pleased_ with the _whole concept_. 

“ **However, putting aside my opinion. You should take into consideration why you shouldn’t**.” Computer says, before _lowering_ its voice. Despite knowing their Irken, smeet could already not hear them speaking. “ **Indicated by how freaked out Zim is** ,” and then returned to speaking normally. “ **listen to Master**.” A pause. “ **I’m positive there are a plethora of alternative activities to achieve collectively**.” 

Dib _glared_ at a rough _swipe_ of a nasty gash. Sure, Computer had done it _on purpose_ as punishment. 

e

“ **I can search and identify something else, I’m confident will be as dangerous**.” Computer speaking, the last bit with snark.

Dib _wilted_ with Computer’s _concerned unsaid words_ in their version of a parental speech. That quiet voice inside _growing_ louder. That feeling of _foreboding_ from before to seeing Zim react that way, _itched at the walls_ inside his mind to get out.

But _there are_ louder voices. **Stronger feelings**.

Parts of him that are still so _petty, oozing, childish_. When confronted by Zim or his father, or hell, anybody. Its twin _curiosity **ravages**_ within him, bringing an **unquenchable thirst** ; _why shouldn’t he go, what has scared the X-Invader responsible for thousands of deaths?_ They cloud and whisper the dangers into transparency. Make the care for all those pesky little consequences silent and leave him to refuse to think of them until they are right in his face.

“ _You_ know what... no...” Fuck Zims odd behaviour and that little voice in the back of Dib’s head that sounded like his sister calling him a _suicidal moron_. “Tell Zim when he’s done sulking like a-” Dib made air quotes, “ _smeet_ ,” the word dripped in equal snark to Computers. “that I’m going. If he _wants_ to join, then _cool_. If not, I’ll see him in a couple weeks. **I will not** spoil my break when that Asshole won’t be honest with me.”

Before _hopping off_ the metal table to _stomping away_. Though Computer still hadn’t finished tending to him. But Dib’s _annoyed_ , maybe, _a lot more hurt_ than he’s letting on.

Computer doesn’t stop him. That’s all that mattered to Dib. Although _a long sigh echoing_ through Home follows himself out.

Zim crawled into the truck through the window he’d left open.

“ _So_ **nice** of _you_ to **join** me,” Dib said, _sneering_.

Despite the stress that had been building since Dib left Home, after their fight, it all leaves at his menace’s company. _More than happy_ to see his Alien. Thankful to Zim for his thoughtful kindness, _even when still upset with him_ , to use the suction cups added to the PAK’s legs. Rather than stab holes into his truck, making Dib have to replace it, again.

The trip’s been quiet, _too quiet_. Regret for being bull-headed and coming out by himself. Like _a part of him had been feeling that itchy paranoia_ the longer Zim didn’t chase after him. The **deep twisting gut worry** he’d made the wrong decision. That this time fate decided he wasn’t worth it anymore.

Then there’s the ‘him’ that’s still louder. Refusing to see it anyway, but _this one path_. **Consequences damned**. It’s his life. Fuck if he’d go back with his tail between his legs.

Zim saying nothing to him. Not even one of his customary snapbacks. Takes a moment to give a quick glance back. No doubt to satisfy themself, that yes, he’d _secured_ his tiny original cramped Voot down to the flatbed of Dibs baby. And probably to make sure it’s also _cloaked_ from any passing humans. _Not that it mattered_. They’d both long ago realized with all the Membrane tech out there. Spaceships on a flatbed truck owned by him a Membrane wasn’t a worry anymore or had it ever really been. 

**Hell!** They found out, in one of Zim’s dire needs, in a pinch his Alien could _slap on an M sticker to his forehead_ in his Irken body. Humans are that _ludicrous_ and _brainwashed_ by their own delusions, they’d believed he’d been some crazy experiment that got out. As if _Zim had a collar that read_ , ‘If found return to Membrane labs.’ Which was both _disgustingly depressing_ and _entertaining_ to Dib. Much to Zim’s _dismay_ after the _frightful_ moment.

After a while. When Dib still hadn’t _gotten one word from Zim_ , who’s being big-headed enough to refuse even looking in his direction. He gave _a long, strangled sigh_. After glancing at Zim’s fingers, a light green knuckled grip on the door and his leg.

Instead of hitting the jerk; _just to get any reaction out of him_. Dib reached over, slipping on his Asshole’s favourite road trip playlist. Hopeful that it will unwind Zim, even _lull his Alien_ into giving up whatever lockjaw information he’s still refusing to spit out. 

Sometimes it’s like Dib’s an interrogator and Zim’s his prisoner; _he’s torturing, again, for the secrets to the universe_.

Dib makes it as far as the door before an alarm _blares_ and a hologram shows up. Almost dropping the tablet in _sudden fright_ as he’s forced away from the door and to look down. 

“ _Dib_ -?” Zim’s voice cuts in, confused, light and high pitched before he’s screaming at max volume. “HOW _DARE_ DIB TRESPASS HIS _DISGUSTING_ HUMAN MEATS UPON _MY_ DOMAIN! LEAVE _ADMITTEDLY_ OR I TURN _YOUR_ WET SQUISHY-NESS TO DRY ASH! AND _DELIVER_ INTO IT A TIN BOX TO SET UPON _YOUR_ HUMAN DWELLING!”

Dib snorts, heart _rattling_ around in his scare, before laughing. It’s been years since he’s seen this silly thing. Zim had been _so tiny_ back then, his voice _incredibly_ high pitched. _His alien really had been adorable_. Still is when he’s not being a fucking asshole and menace. Before stopping short. Laugh _cutting out_ with realization as to _the last time_ he’d seen this hologram. 

That had been a dark time for Zim. All his fears _unravelling every truth he’d swallowed down and ignored_. Falling apart day by day to the point Zim had...

Renewed with that dread of loss, Dib had never thought he mourn and the heat of disobedience to being told what to do. Dib walked right through the hologram. It crackled before dying out. 

Thankful for having unlocked it from the tablet, he _fumbled_ with the door, throwing the metal cage open. Before _shoving_ the main door open, causing it to swing open and _slam_ against the wall behind. 

The inside is _almost_ pitch black, the only regular sources of light, the windows on either side with curtains _drawn tightly_ closed. The light of the early morning from the front door almost helps as it _splays_ over the floor of the front room. But not enough to do anything for Dib’s sense of _safety_.

Of course, trying the light switch _produces_ no results. The place is _dead silent_ , like those woods. And as far as Dib can remember, _there’s always been the quiet hum of Irken electronics_ and Computer that make up the _natural lull_ of Home.

Pulling off his backpack, Dib goes for the flashlight from earlier. Realizing as he shifts through the bag. _It’s not there_. Remember hearing a couple things shift out of his bag and fall out onto the floor of the car on the drive up.

“Fuck, good _going_ , you _stupid loser_.” He said, _biting out_ self-loathing. Because he’d told himself after hearing this he’d pick it up when he got here. ‘ _Yeah_ , right!’

Zipping up his bag and pulling out his phone, refusing to go back and bother with the box and car. Dib _shines_ the light into the room.

The air is _scorching, humid, heavy_ with _stagnation_ as if they haven’t aired the place out in weeks or months. The **stench** of something _**sickly sweet**_ like _the rot of sugar, stale snacks, or just **rot**_ , possibly? And yet there’s a _nagging_ at the back of his mind **that _wasn’t_ quite right**. And under all that, a smell Dib couldn’t quite make out. He wanted to say like _iron_.

“ **G** ir?”

.

.

.

“Zim?” 

.

.

.

“ _Computer_?”

**Nothing** , not even the _flicker_ of movement or a _squeak of metal_.

“ **This** _isn’t_ funny, assholes. _Nobody’s_ heard from **you** in weeks.” Dib speaks, finding it easier to hold on to that anger. Then it was to allow the apprehension to consume him and enter his voice. “ _I know you’re there_ , **Computer!** ”

Was it _moronic_ shouting into the house? When _every nerve ending_ in his body was _screaming **everything** about this was wrong_. **Yes** , but he is _Dibble **fucking** Membrane_. He’d been living _stupidly_ and _dangerously_ since the moment of his making. Yet, here he is still standing at the door, looking in, like _a baby_. 

With that thought, Dib puffed out his chest and headed in. Panning the light _right_ and _left_ over the entire room. It’s a **wreck** , like _the way it looks after one of their fights_ , except without all the blood. At least, not so much. Dib can’t tell there’s a black slick _everywhere_ , he’s never seen it before -

Dib took in a deep, burning breath. Memories of a few weeks ago slamming into him and knocking the wind from him.

Zim’s **screaming** into his face, however, Dib can _barely_ make out the words. It is a hellish garbled mess of English, Spanish and Irken, maybe a Vortian word or two thrown in now and then. Zim’s **that _furious_** and **that afraid** , and Dib himself _isn’t all that better off_ after what he’s witnessed.

Their Alien’s breath comes in _ragged puffs_ of _hot molten air_ as it spreads across Dib’s skin. What should have smelled like _sour sweets_ ; a distinct odour known only to Zim. That why it had taken getting used to is an unspoken comfort for Dib. Now, however, it takes on this **horrific rank** ; _a pungent acidic sweetness of rot_. So potent Dib can sample it in his lungs, _coating_ his throat and he’s forced to step back several steps.

His body _shaking_ like _jello Gir’s holding_. Own breath _stuttering_ and heart _pounding_ into his chest. Eyes wide, Dib stares at the black sticky goo of the now VERY dead alien’s blood as it _slides_ down Zim’s jaw. 

His partner’s face **splattered** in it; _a daunting sight that hadn’t alarmed Dib in years_.

Zim’s light reddish-white teeth and an adorable pink tinge Dib used to make fun of his Alien for, are now _staine_ as if his Irken’s taken up a new beauty _hobby in glaze-like lacquer_.

“A-are y’ou,” Dib asks, _stumbling_ and _pitching_ high, before taking a breath, “Are you ok?”

Hand reaching up to _spread_ his fingers across Zim’s face, _smearing_ that disgusting substance across his Alien’s cheek. Dib palm cups the side of Zim’s face, _caressing_ it with his thumb.

A part of Dib _wants to be sure his Irken is still there_ , **still breathing**. What just happened, _it wasn’t worth the cool factor_ of seeing Zim pull out everything he’s ever learned in Invader training. Dib knows that had been a fight to the death, and one wrong move and they’d both be dead now. So damned the warning given earlier. _Obviously, it’s not true, **right**_? The Bastards covered in this crap, and why Zim’s hurting from his fight and is a _little crazed_ and _wild around the edges_. **His Bug’s still very much alive**. 

Still, a _million_ things Dib could have said or could have done. A _billion_ emotions for him to feel. Anger being a must-should have and just as _righteous_ as Zim’s. It was such an easy one between the two of them, even after all this time. But there’s that _quiet static hum of a calm before a storm_. It sweeps Dib up, carrying him away, and as much as he hates admitting it to himself. This all to tender hesitance. It seems Dib isn’t the only one that’s taken back by a sudden show of affection. 

Zims stopped screaming profanity at him. Something the X-invader only does when they’ve reached his dropping point of liveability within Dibs _senseless, mean spirited, self-involved, self-sacrificing, no self-preservation world_.

_Blinking_. One closes to take in the touch, the other narrowing to show Zim’s _suspension_. His large superior opticals. _That he never stops reminding Dib they’re referred to as_. Look almost as if they’re suddenly a light crimson, as they _glow softly_ , reflecting the early morning light.

Zim’s antennae once pressed back against his skull in his rage, _flick_ forward and twitch. _Tentatively_ vibrating in his direction; _inching close to touch_ before they abruptly stop. Zim’s sharp sneer morphs into a close mouth, lips smooched forward, a sign of thought. 

Dib can see his Alien’s own hesitance. _His unspoken want for that comfort he’s always needed as much as Dib_. It’s so brief in the way Zim’s face _twitches_ to keep from softening before it’s gone, and a cold shield masks his _cracking feelings_ and he’s brushing Dib off. As _Zim always does when his emotions and his feelings are of concern_.

“Zim _is_ fine.” 

Currently, a two-fingered and thumb clawed hand, covered in more Alien blood, comes up to grab Dib’s own. It pauses there for a moment, before removing Dibs own away and over to Dibs chest, closing his fingers back into Dibs palm. And repeats himself in what Zim thinks is an assurance to Dib’s overwhelming and unneeded worry. Dib is so sure of this because Zim repeats himself for a third time a second later. This time with more words, _as if adding more of them will change the truth they both feel and desperately wish to make go away_.

“ _Zim’s_ fine. That _diseased_ creature _is_ no match for _an_ almighty Zim and _a_ Irken’s superior PAK. Zim _will_ heal naturally in a few days.”

Dib can clearly see the _blinding lie_ in Zim’s idiotic green face. His Alien body’s tense and closed off. Zim hasn’t even attempted to insult either that alien he slaughtered or Dib himself with any of his wasted breath. 

And not just that. Dib’s had first-hand experience dealing with Zim’s annoying issues with germs having been a huge thing between them when living together. And right now. The Fool’s covered head to toe in bloody gore. As if _Zim took a refreshingly cool swim in an Eldritch horror pool_.

Just then, Zim’s antenna shakes like _a leg attempting to pry an unwelcome person off_. Clearly annoyed. In his realization that something’s stuck to it, before a _slop of flesh is flung off_ , disappearing somewhere behind Dib. 

Dib doesn’t reply, there’s nothing he could say. He only obverses, now able to take stalk in Zim’s injuries. 

There are several brush burns across his face, body and hands, from being dragged across the unforgiving woody floor. Along with scrapes and cuts from twigs and rocks and much larger gashes were sharp gnarly nails had ripped through his so-called superior Irken flesh like _it had been made of a sugary dessert_. Even Zim’s outfit barely hangs from his body. And that was just what Dib could see passed through all blood and his outer layers. Dib didn’t even want to imagine the internal damage and pain Zim’s silently experiencing. 

One alien, one moment and all hell had broken loose and now Zim stood there looking as if _someone had drained his very life from him_. His PAK whirling like an overheating tower.

Dibs not stupid. Zims not stupid. Even if the rest of the Earthen race and whatever’s left of the Irken one contested that. They know each other, every twitch, _every breath, every thought, every flaw and strength, every lie and every truth_. Even if they may not understand at that moment what they’re supposed to. 

Dib knows **nothing _is_ alright**. Zim fears something or another that has him worried. He’s playing it off for both his own sake, as always, and for Dibs. That much known. Why, though, Dib has no idea. And now his Alien is closing himself off. It’s so metaphorically obvious in the way Zim took his open hand, offered in concern and open affection for him, and closed it with his own. Placing it back against Dib’s own chest. Like _he’s declaring, no, like **Zims screaming** , this does not concern the likes of you, human, and I do not trust you to lean on_ and something about that for Dib cut down deeper than any blade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, for the Hits. And for all those who read it and follow, Kudo'd, Bookmarked, Subscribed and Commented! Bless!


	4. Picture Perfect Dread

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ·· _Nᴏᴛ ᴀʟʟ ʙᴏᴀᴛs ᴡʜɪᴄʜ sᴀɪʟ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ғɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sᴜɴ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ_ ·· ー Stᥱρhᥱᥒ Kιᥒg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOO buddies! We hit the new mother load and this is minor compared to how intense the future chapter’s will be. Buckle up you lot, it’s gonna get bumpy!
> 
> **Trigger’s or Squicks for this chapter are;** PTSD Related Symptoms, Mental Breakdowns, Dissociating Character’s, Guilt Tripped Character’s, Poor&Bad Self-esteem’s Expressed in Unhealthy Ways, Self-Harm, Vomit, Unhealthy Possession & Obsession of Characters (To point of “objectifying”.), Major Character Injury, Explicit Language, Blood/Bleeding, Mild Description of Injuries, Semi to Heavily Descriptive GORE (Just going to say that just in case.), Mention of and NonDescriptive Violence, Misuse of the medical term "Psychopath" // and just to be sure I am heard, - MORE Gooey Touchy-Feeling Affections of Concern between Dib & Zim.
> 
> **For those who read these;** I am shamelessly promoting my own Irken OC short story I am extremely proud of called “IZ: AN INVADER’S WILL - UNDER THE EMPIRE.” which you can find in my works. _Apparently, none of my links are working here. UGH, I must fix them all, somehow, someday._

‘No, **No** , _NO_!’

Dib’s _shaking_ , eyes wide with fright, trying to take in every sliver of light from the depth of the room’s shadows, ears **strained** to hear even a mouse _squeak_.

‘Did we miss an alien? Did it come back for Zim?’

Dib pans the light wildly over the area. “ _Z_ IM!” _Hysteria_ colouring his tone, clouding his head.

“GIR! COMPUTER!”

The smell is that _sickly sweet_ of the alien’s blood; mixed with the _copper_ smell of a human’s. It had to be.

“FUCKING ANSWER ME!” Dib _bellowed_ , beginning to break. ‘Please, **please** just answer.’

He should have come back sooner. He shouldn’t have allowed the guilt to eat away at him and allowed Zim’s strange behaviour to scare him into compliance. To ever obey the stupid alien’s request to be left alone.

“ZIM! GIR! COMPUTER, I KNOW YOU _’re_ there!” Hardly recognizing his own _shrill_ voice, _etched_ in panic, tears beginning to _spill_ down his cheeks.

‘Move, Dibble, **you stupid fucking useless clone**. _MOVE_ , start searching, _start looking_. DO FUCKINSOMETHING!’

Turning towards the kitchen off to the side to leave, Dib catches the small sound of a voice. _He almost doesn’t hear it_.

_Frantic, unstable_ , he turns without looking as he steps further into the room and _slips_. The _squash_ of something wet _twists_ his ankle, leg giving out. **He hits the floor hard.** His ankle _throbbing_. Pain _vibrating_ up his arms from catching himself. Dib doesn’t notice any of it, though, his attention is on what he’s slipped in. Congealed black blood cracked open, its _putrid_ smell thicker.

Sitting up in a crazed daze on the back of his legs. Dib lifts his _shaking_ hands, the morning lights glow _painting the tips_ of his finger’s in _golden pink_. The flashes of that morning back in the woods.

_Zim’s **shrill** cry of **agony** and **surprise** covers the sound of the alien as it **rips** through his side with a single swipe; the **splattering** of blood across the forest floor as Zim’s PAK leg goes through the thing’s skull with a **sickening crunch** and **splosh**. Still, it **lunges** for him like a super-soldier-zombie, attempting to eat him. **Snarling** through massive horn thick teeth, inches from Zim’s face._

Dib returns to the moment to his own screams, having managed to _scramble_ across the floor, back pressed against the wall. Phone forgotten where it slid across the floor, the outline of the light _illuminating_ where it lays face down.

_Shaky, ragged_ breath. **A dry sob.** Deep lungfuls of vomit-inducing air sucked in uncontrolled.

“HELLO!?” His cry _broken, frenzied, piercing._

Again, in what seems like hours, so _quiet and lifeless_ in a way it’s never been, a voice answers back.

Dib reply’s back, “GIR?” _scrambling_ up, ignoring his phone and the potential dangers that linger in every shadow. He _wipes_ his gory hands down his pant legs, _rushing_ over he _slips_ on dark caked blood but Dib doesn’t stop.

It’s Zim, Gir, his and even Computer’s favourite couch; _having picked it out together_. An odd vivid red two cushion sleeper couch that reminded Dib of a slug with its adjustable appendage lights on either end of the back. They’d bought the second week after he moved in after Zim got tired of Dib waking up grumpy having to sleep on his old lumpy stained one.

Now it lay upside down. It’s frame broken, fluffy plush insides of white popping out, cushions haphazardly strewn across the floor and stained in black. The bed out, its metal wiring bent at an odd angle from landing wrong and sheets littering the floor beside it. The massive screen it had sat in front of shattered; shards of its glass strewn across the ground.

Continuing to call out Gir’s name; _like a parent realizing their child has gone missing_. Dib only stops when under his plea is the _scraping_ of metal against concrete.

Reaching the side of the couch further into the room. Dib finds the edges, remembering how heavy it is; that Zim had to carry it inside, but Dib’s _desperate_. Gir _needs_ him and he curses the planets and himself, knee’s bent as he _huffs_. The couch makes an _unsettling noise_ as it’s lifted. Arms _shaking_ as hard as his legs. Dib finds that inhuman inner strength, _gritting_ his teeth, and _tosses the whole thing up and over_.

Eyes adjusted to the low-light, widen at what’s beneath. Sending Dib _crashing_ to his knees, ignoring the pain. Hands out, shaking even more in the horror of seeing his little mania of hellish energy, once so full of life and love, ー

Dib _sucks_ in a breath, _a sob tearing_ through his chest, it _burns_ as he chokes. Words _tremble_ out, thoughts a mess.

_Pinned_ under the couch’s heaviest area beside the TV; _Gir’s loved with almost all their heart_ , lies the little robot. Part of their little body _caved in_ , by what Dib’s unsure. One of their eyes gone, three distinct claw marks _shredding_ clean through their metal, their other eye _cracked_ ; barely glowing, the tiniest of hope other than being called too that Gir’s, in fact, alive.

As if Dib’s picking up a fragile human child just born, he pulls the little SIR Unit to his chest. _Cradling their broken body in protecting arms_ , the sting of tears **bites** at Dib’s eyes as he sucks in air.

Lowering his voice to a _soft_ whisper; Dib tries to make his voice as comforting as possible. Dib doesn’t want Gir to get any crazy idea that he’s mad. “Gir, he _ya buddy_ , how’s **my** _favourite_ little dude?” Finishing with a _hum_ in the back of his throat, clogged.

Gir doesn’t answer, leaving Dib to _grasp_ at the last remains of his composure. He’s _petrified_ of the next answer, but it’s one he knows Gir will always answer. “ **Gir** , can you _tell_ me **where** -” voice _cracking_ as tears slip down his cheeks, “ _where’s_ your **master**?” but the unknown has always been so much worse…

Black edges _tightening_ in, layer’s _heating_ uncomfortably. Zim’s losing _influence_ over his own organic housing, as if _floating_ elsewhere in the cool breeze of the new dawn.

It’s so _eerily silent_ for one who never shuts up.

‘ **Do not _regard_ him.**’ Zim commands.

**Fear**

There is no further screaming. Why is Zim still not _shouting_ at the Dib~moron for the _senseless_ , insane Fleshy~pig~beasts _irresponsibility_? For Zim being CORRECT as to about why they _should never have been out there_.

_**DREAD** _

Zim knows under all the _cakey, slimy_ black blood lies _lacerations_ and _burns_ they cannot feel as fingers, jerk.

Arms of _lead weight_ , as if they’d been attempting to move mountains. They _quiver_ like sweet Jello greatness, the only satisfactory thing their school lunches served to Zim.

_Drowning, sinking_ and no liquid insight.

This feeling ー it is **undiluted terror** , _slithering_ up Zim’s esophagus.

‘ **Must not display _deficiency_.**’ Not to themselves, the unintelligent-inferior humans, nor to Irkens or the greens and the roaming beasts, _but most of all_ there’s one being Zim must more than ever before _not exhibit wrongness_ too.

‘Zim does not know, it ca ー,’

_Vision blurs._

Is it the blood that _burns_ beneath Zim’s exterior layers, or is it Zim’s meats that sweat _sharp_ like a heated blanket around his meaty insides?

**It’s everywhere** \- all that black sticking to the exterior organics, attaching to his meaties. It circulates in Zim’s veins like _syr’up’y of cloying ferments_ on their sensory organs...

A billion thoughts, none to be picked apart, all charging in at all fronts, like _an enemy squadron_.

Zims face is _strained_ , _raging stings_ behind his opticals, but they can not, Zim WILL NOT do that. **Not now, not ever**.

The universe _sweeps_ Zim off his limbs, balance lost; _no ups or downs_ , as if gravity’s turned off. Nausea _crashing_ into them with the _demand_ to regurgitate all within his spooch.

Squishy core proceeding out of sync with how it has regularly _pattled_ along deep within a now _aching_ chest, why Zim side wrapped securely with Dib’s jacket to survive as keeper to his insides that BURN and STING.

_One moment_ Zim stands before Dib, _assuring_ his Human _all if great_ with Zim and _the next_ they stand before his Voot.

A _blink_ and his world evolves in more than one aspect.

**Drowning...**

Zim wished they had chosen the advance ship to arrive in. With its state-of-the-art medical bay and human shower.

The need to _cleanse_ is as thick as the blood- _drenched_ over Zim, like _the led weight of chains dragging them down_.

It was, like, no, it was worse than being back in front line of all those _judging_ minds. All Zims _constructed_ reality **crumbling** before Zim; _laughter rings_ vibrating against his antennae. Cruel words whispered of _glitches_ , of _errors_ , of Zim being **preferred deleted**.

**... _suffocating_ in an _expanse_ of black.**

Zim _painfully_ understands what this occasion serves as hands _tremble_ , and clenches them into fists, _slicing_ into meat to produce a different, better-experienced _twist_ of anguish. **Physical pain’s safe** , _real agony_ means Zim’s alive, _it orders, illustrates to them they can conquer all_. They are Zim an almighty, no tallest, no Irkens, no Dib, no humans, no aliens, no, no, no -

_No!_

Zim _will not fail_ , **must not be taken down**. If there is ever an occasion for them to be the _unfeeling, unfearing, blindly controlled_ Irken The Empire had **_invariably broken_** into Zim, ー now would be that occasion.

If they didn’t, if they granted themselves _permission_ to fall apart even before the truth _creeping_ through their veins is learned...

_No, nO **…**_

For the first time, **there is no light at the end of a harsh dark tunnel**. All there is is a pitch nothing and the _rapidly raising black that would devour them aliv_ e from below.

NO!

Zim **must be strong** , they must be _unemotional_. If not for themselves then to confirm to his Human that all is right.

Over the years, Gir has shown all they have to offer; _the cute, the annoying, the good, the bad, the downright disgusting and ugly_ , and _something that is entirely unique_ to Gir and maybe Zim; _a whole level of impossible, it’s essentially reality-bending_.

At least that’s what Dib had thought.

The little robot’s single _cracked_ eye _flickers_ between red and teal, hands and arms _twitching_ as if trying to reach out. Tiny electronic voice _cracking_ and _faltering_ as Gir **sobs in despair** at the simple question.

When out of nowhere Dib’s entire body _tensed_ , vision blurring. At first, he’s not sure what’s going on. Nausea _slamming_ into him the same way the _tingling_ going on _buzzing_ pain runs up his arms. Muscles _twitching_ and moving on their own and it hits him, Gir’s circuits are _sparking_ , making him one giant electricity conductor.

Gir’s never been _so **hysterical** , so **broken** , so **delicate**_. Like the breeze of a warm summer could break them.

He admits, again, it pays not to be quite human; a clone built to be stronger than a born human.

“ **Gir** ,” Dib spoke, _painstakingly_ ; jaw locked up and clenched. “I know you’re _upset_ , buddy. **But you _gotta_ be strong**.”

Although, at that moment, in all the haze, Dib’s not sure if that speech is all for Gir or for them both. He’s glad when the few _agonizing_ moments Dib fears cardiac arrest are over. His whole body _slumps_ sore, notably in his arms.

Dib’s, however, more concerned that Gir’s gone quiet. Eye duller than it was before, Dib starts to cry again, the _fear_ that this time their little robots short-circuited themselves, or worse.

When Gir’s little voice is back. _Stronger, rambling_ about it not being _Masta’s fault, that Masta loved them, he tried to save them, but that Masta couldn’t help themselves_.

Honestly, Dib can’t make heads or tails of what Gir is getting at and not because Gir’s being odd, talking in what seems like _riddles_. Why, Dib’s guess; it’s possible Gir doesn’t know why Zim did what he did or what’s wrong, or maybe the robot fears how Dib will react to whatever truth lies hidden in the same repeated broken stances. Gir’s always attempted in their own odd ways to be his and Zim’s medium to reduce fights between them.

“Ok, _shh_ , **don’t** _worry_ Gir.” He cuts off their dwindling speech that’s more _garbled_ sounds than actual words anymore. “ _I’m **not** mad_, I _know_ it’s not _Zims_ fault,” Before bitterly self-cutting, ‘ **because it’s mine**.’

That seems to do it because Gir goes quiet once more. This time, Dib isn’t as freaked out. Gir moves one of their little hands over to his fingers and grips them as tightly as a baby.

“ **We’re going to find Zim** together, as soon as I _figure out_ why Computer isn’t answering me, **kay**?”

Because as much as Dib wants to go _half-cocked_ looking for Zim. **He needs Computer** , _more than ever_. Not only is he _worried_ for them, Computer is the only other person, being or thing who’s going to be of any help.

At least -

Dib’s _racing_ mind comes to a _grinding halt_ as something at the edge of his sight _catches_ his attention. _Whipping_ his head around to the corner of the room where one of Computer’s oldest of the new monitors Zim handmade with Computer for Computer’s new style-identity.

Dib’s not sure he’d seen what he thought he saw. It happened so fast, he can’t say he didn’t make the whole thing up with how on edge he is.

Turning away from Gir’s form in his arms, he _stares_ over at the monitor. _The shadows look as if they’re closing in on him_. Dib is god-to-honest, freaked out, never more _frightened of the dark_ or what’s in it than this moment.

“ **Computer**?” Dib whispered, watching it, but nothing happened...

Maybe Dib hadn’t seen the tall tale sign of _static noise buzz_ across the monitor. Maybe he’d imagined what looked like _a figure standing within its charged random dot pixel pattern_.

A single blink there and a single blink gone. The screen continued to stay _black, cracked and **dead**._

Dib watches Zim _intently_ , **saying _nothing_ after being lied straight too**. He wants to, Dib _really_ does.

He’s well aware he’s fucked up, severely this time, and not from the way Zims acting. _Dib fears this might be the point even Zim won’t be able to forgive so quickly_ , or at least push what he’s done aside. For the better of them, for the better of Zim himself or whatever.

Fuck, _neither_ of them are always the best to one another. Back as kids, they were downright psychopaths to each other.

In fact, having grown up and gotten help **Dib could admit** _after all Zim had done to him his Alien is still the better of them_.

Dib’s been cruel, _crueler than an Irken in a way_ , unlike Zim, at least, Dib’s doing so _on purpose without a purpose_ ; he has the unmistakable human factor of being nasty.

As for the fights.

Sure, when they first met, Zim was _meaner_ and _rougher_ than he is, now.

And yes, why Dib’s Irken genes and his clone status and his equal intelligence are a part of his saving grace when their fights got bad. Computer said Zim even back then, ー as odd a human child as Dib was. Their Master knew _a human child wouldn’t last forever against a smeet born for war since it’s making_. Even though their fights seem to get out of hand, Zims only did so to bruise Dib’s ego. Sending him home hurting, sure, but it had stopped being about killing Dib, even before they were even on talking terms.

Because for Zim it became about _somebody finally recognizing what he believed himself_ to be or what he _desperately wanted of himself_. It wasn’t about being a good guy or being kind to an inferior species. Dib had become somebody his Alien had learned to trust. **A horrible idea** Dib did not understand how Zim ever thought him of all the creatures in the universe, _worthy_. Maybe, because even in being untrusting, Dib had always fallen into his own lies. Zim had come to read him like _a book attempting to hide its twists and turns rather poorly_.

**_For Zim, Dib had become_ without realizing _his everything_.** **Yet for Dib, Zim had been nothing at all**. A means to an end to glorify him. He didn’t care one bit about the alien; he’d cut him open and look inside all why he was still alive if it so tickled Dib’s fancy. Dib’s sure the scum on his foot had more rights and life in his eye than Zim.

_And it had taken the time Zim disappeared for the evaluation and for his Alien to return_ as something he’d at the time seen as less than... For Dib to get paranoid in a way he’d never thought he’d be. **_Fear of losing what came to belong to him, a part that had become the wholeness to his empty life_** , and even then, Zim was below him...

They’re still pretty petty. Often when losing their tempers they resort to _saying horrible things that will hurt in ways nobody else in the universe could hurt them_ , because nobody knows them the way they do. And if it wasn’t words they were throwing down with, it was a good old rough and tumble. Draining blood like the best of enemies.

_Without a doubt_ , now **they’d give up their own lives to save the other**. It’s a fact they had to live with and what made them both so dangerous to the outside world.

_Alone, they were annoying pests_ , bound to ruin someone’s day or a whole lot of somebody’s life. **Together, they were a force of nature, not even a god could stop.** The things they were willing to do, the heights they could reach for the other, were beyond all imagination.

Gaz had once said, **I fear for the soul that gets between you two.**

Phone _retrieved_ and Gir _safety tucked_ into his arms. Dib _searches_ through the front area of the house and the kitchen. Not that he’s going to find Zim or Computer that way, but he figures there have to be clues to _what the hell had happened_.

_Paranormal Investigating_ and _stalking_ comes with lots of learned skills. For instance, in the brief time he’s been poking around, he’s learned a lot of things.

Like he was correct in his first panic-induced look around: _there are two blood types here_. However, none of them is from Zim. This is both _surprising, relieving_ and leaves him _puzzled_ as it contradicts with what Gir was rambling on about.

And despite the room looking _messy_ , it’s not as _disorderly_ as panic told him it was. This is not the room where a fight happened, _at least not their sort of fights_. Things are _knocked_ into and broken _in a haste_ to get to something or _away from something_ , rather than a knockdown drag out. Tv broke when something threw the couch into it, but the single chair ( _Dib doesn’t even understand why they still own._ ) is toppled over. The shelves added when he moved in and the shelves Zim added before for Gir’s random toy’s and his Alien’s knick-knacks are _mostly intact_ except for a few areas where it looks like something _attempted_ to climb them. The shredded wallpaper is _no doubt_ from Zims claws and the holes from his PAK legs.

Why all this _lifted certain fears_ from Dib’s shoulder’s, _room to breathe_ inside his head. Dib finds himself more _confused_ , the investigation **leaving more questions _than answers_**.

As for the blood, the biggest donor is whatever strange alien who bleeds black, which is nothing like the way it had been back in that forest. Fresh right out of that alien. Back then it was _syrupy_ and _slimy_ , like _liquid mucus_. Here, it’s _thick_ and _congealed_ like _toxic sludge_. When he pokes at it, it _crackles_ and _oozes_ a bit where the dried outer layer has sealed away its _gooey_ insides.

The minor donor is human, _no mistake_. No blood near the door. It starts halfway into the room with _castoff_ from claws tearing into skin. _The human bleeder came first_. Then the rest is from what Dib guesses is the slash wound, _directional long_ droplets all over tell Dib the human was running. _Smearing theirs and the alien’s blood with their footprints_. There’s _pooling_ in the area where the couch and chair once were as if they stopped to hide or rest for a longer period. It’s not until near the hallway is there any _significant_ pooling. This one’s serious enough _Dib sure the human is dead_. **What he doesn’t understand is he’s seen Zim’s work too many times before to not realize what he’s looking at.** It makes NO fuc-

_-CRASH-_

Dib _**jumps** clear out of his skin_ as he _whirls_ around, heart _entering_ his throat, and the light of the phone _shaking_ and _jerking_ around as he _shines_ it over to the left-hand side of the back of the room; _illuminating_ the door frame of the hallway.

_Clenching_ Gir close, _refusing to leave them alone_ for a second more. Dib closes an eye, taking a deep _shaky_ breath, trying to calm down. _It’s as if he’s a kid all over again_ , **disgusting**.

One foot in front of the other, one step at a time. Tense on edge. The silence has brought back _every single nightmarish hell_ Dib could imagine or had already been through in his life.

**Fuck** , he hadn’t even brought a weapon with him. He’s _aggravatingly_ stupid sometimes. If Zim or Gaz, hell his old man were here, **they’d chew him up and spit him out** , so whatever was kicking around in here would have to get in line.

They’re _constantly_ jumping down his throat about _being prepared for the worst_ and you think Dib, _a person on equal terms of paranoia as Zim_ , would be armed to the teeth. Once upon a time, he had prepared for the worst life could throw him into. **_But the scary truth is_ , he’d gotten so used to the safety of Zim’s possessive killer protection**. Dib wasn’t thinking about _something horrible waiting for him around a corner_ anymore. He’d been through so much worse and _there’s always something so much scarier_ , so much more _deadly hovering behind him_ waiting to pounce.

_Startled_ out of his thoughts and slow quiet tip-towed travel by a noise below Dib _freezes_ shoulders tense. Glancing down and then back up towards the hall; _too paranoid to look away_. Dib wishes more than ever his father had at least given him crazy super inhuman hearing like him and Zim. Even if his own was already an inch better than a full-blooded human.

Before Dib asks what Gir wants, a small plasma gun _pops_ out of the little dude’s head. After adjusting the phone in his other hand, an arm holding Gir, Dib **takes it with a strained smile** , because he knows _every minor act drains_ the little robot of life.

Sure, _he’s safer_ , more prepared, **but at what cost**? “Thank you,” Dib says, and he _means it wholeheartedly_.

Making his way down the hall, trying to avoid the blood, there’s a new confidence in the way Dib’s steps become more _deliberate_. As if _allowed the affordance_ to breathe a bit.

Coming to the first door on his right; _the guest room_. Dib finds the door as it should be closed, nothing seems to have disturbed it. Still, _he wants to clear the room, he needs to investigate it_.

A _glance_ down one end of the hall and back where he came Dib _reaches_ out, _waving_ his hand over the sensor; where a normal human house would have a doorknob. The door _pops_ open, a _crack_ , with a _click_.

Dib doesn’t enter right away, _he listens_. Gun pointed at the crack of the door for peace of mind. _No heavy breathing, no movement, no weird odours of anything afoul_. Gun out, Dib pushes the door open with it. _Unwilling_ to give up his balance to use his leg and one-handed with the SIR Unit tucked into the crook of his arm against his chest.

The room is still inside, _not a single thing out of place_ , and it’s Zim clean. Looking around with a _quick glance_ , Dib pokes his head back around into the hall. _Biting_ his lip, he _steps back_ in, _shutting_ and _locking_ the door behind him.

Whatever had made that noise, _whatever wanted to get to him now_ , either had to break the door down; giving him the time to react, or it had to come in from the bathroom. _That’s good enough for him_.

Moving into the room, he eyed the bed. Glad it wasn’t anything like the one at his apartment or in his childhood bedroom. This one had no space under to hide the monsters of the night.

It’s _funny_ he and Zim had gotten into a _huge argument_ about that. He had wanted to add in a closet, and Zim hadn’t wanted it. _Calling it a waste of space_ ; space they didn’t have and invited guests to stick around longer than wanted. **In the end, Dib had agreed with the last part**. _He just didn’t want to agree at that moment to anything Zim had to say_.

Moving over to the bathroom, he repeated the process of entering. Glad for no shower curtain to deal with, just a _cracked_ open shower door allowing the broken connection of smart glass.

One _quick glance_ told Dib nothing had been here either in a long time.

Now he’s left with one more place to check... _his room_. The only other place up here where the sound could have come from. The labs were far too deep underground with billions of layers of Irken soundproofing, for even Zim can’t hear anything below.

Taking a deep breath and letting it go. He fixes Gir’s position in his arms, jostling them like _waking a concussed alien_. Locking the guest bathroom door behind him. Dib _shakes_ himself of thoughts he’s using to make himself feel better as he collects all his _in_ sanity and _bravery_.

_Puffing_ his chest out, the gun pointed forward, he waved it before the sensor, _kicking_ the door as it clicked. Hoping to catch whatever or whoever is inside off guard, _except_ , it wasn’t something else surprised, it was him. **Senses overloading with a thick, hot wall of choking horror**.

The door _collides_ with the wall in a loud _bang_. He **screams** , eyes as large as saucers. The door _swings_ back and _slams_ shut as _he doubles over to vomit all over the floor and his boots_.

Zim’s _shut_ down, _folded_ in on himself. He stares _unblinking_ at his hands. Walking ahead _as if nothing will touch him_ , nothing but _what’s in his head exists_ and Dib sure right now that’s what Zim believes to be true.

Reaching out in a moment of _shock_ watching Zim’s nails _sink_ into his flesh; _pinkish-clear blood mixing with black as it oozes and drips from his hands_. Before Dib thinks about his actions, drawing back, a hand comes up to his mouth to _bite_ before realizing what it’s covered in and drops it to the side.

The walk back to the truck and to the Voot is _undisturbed_. The birds _sing_ , the animals _move_ around them, the wind _whispers_ through the trees like _their spilling secrets_. Everything is as _if nothing had happened_.

_Dib knows better_. **Something’s wrong**.

Zim’s _suffering_ , an attack and _dissociating_ in the middle of the woods after a fight, were anything here to get a hold of him. _He’s never done that_. **Allowed** _himself_ to be so **vulnerable** out in the open.

But there’s one thing Dib’s learned in all this time dealing with Zim: **in less than pretty words** ; _you don’t reach for an animal that feels cornered_. You’re likely to lose your life, then be of any help. Unless you’re looking for a bloody fight and sometimes that helps to get them out of their own heads, but that’s not something that will work, now.

Not to mention, like him, when this mood strikes, **it is a weakness**. No amount of session talks and reassurances will make them think differently. To them, it’s something you keep to yourself until you’re ready to _break and trust_. What’s needed and wanted from one another _is the presence of knowing the other is there_ for when it’s time to get on your hands and knees and crawl across broken glass of shattered issues. **Then and only then will open arms become walls of safety, and _not further weapons to open oozing wounds to one’s pride_.**

_Shaken_ from his thoughts by Zim _reaching_ back for him. For some reason, this _doesn’t bring reassurance_. It takes every muscle and thought not to _flinch_ away from the normally welcomed hand. Holding still, eyes closed, Dib holds his breath and waits. Zim’s grip, however, is nothing like what he had expected. The moment he’s grabbed it’s _gentle_ , as if _any rougher and he’d fall apart_. His breath leaves him, and Dib stares wide-eyed at the back of Alien’s head.

His Alien _still_ hasn’t looked at him. Doesn’t even look at Dib why he manoeuvres them to the back of the truck, where the Voot awaits. Honestly, Dib’s not sure how they’d both fit in the tiny little thing, _Zim barely fits anymore_...

**But Dib has lost all right to argue after what has happened**.

So he makes like _a rag doll_ , allowing Zim to manoeuvre him around at will as if Dib owns no bones. _Gingerly_ picked up into the Irkens arms like _an overgrown bride_ , Zim stares straight ahead, _tension thick_ and _uncomfortableness_ forces Dib to look away. PAK’s legs _coming out_ to lift them up into the bed of the truck. _Only then does Dib help_. Stepping into the ship and sitting down, legs pinned to his chest and parted to make room...

It’s _cramped_ already, even before _Zim slips in_ and _squashes himself between_.

This has to be the most uncomfortable moment of Dibs week, maybe the whole month, with Zim’s PAK _caving_ his chest in. Not that Zim’s any more comfortable leaning forward, his own chest becoming _one with his ship’s console_.

Still, _neither says anything_ as the windshield shuts with a _whoosh_ of its airtight seal. Before fresh oxygen is filtering in for Dib. _And off they go_. Dib doesn’t even mention his truck being left behind, or everything he’d taken with him was long lost either back in the woods or left with the truck.

**Something in his very being tells him to _become nothing_ as if _the foundation of life_ was hanging by a thread _and even one breath would sever it_.**

**Dib _sobs_ as he _protects_ Gir** in both his arms, _leaning over_ and away he _vomits_ onto the black tile floor until all he has left is the _dry heaves_. Little hands lightly squeezing his fingers as **if telling him it’s all ok**. _But was it_?

**Gir’s falling apart, Computer isn’t answering him, and Zim is missing.** And what Dib had seen in there, _he’ll never be able to unsee_ , and he still has to go back inside.

Drawing up acidic salvia, he _swooshes_ it around his mouth before _spitting_ it on the floor, because **what’s the fucking use** after _emptying_ his stomach all over it already. Zim would have been **screaming in horror** had he’d been here.

Dib snorts through _stinging_ tears at that thought. His chest _aches_ , _clenching_ with dread and leftover _spasms_. Standing up, a deep breath, he reaches up to _wipe_ his mouth with the back of the hand still holding the gun. Stepping back, he glances around.

_He didn’t have time_ to deal with the vomit or bother cleaning himself. _Rubbing_ his hand against the towel hanging up, he **grimaces** at the _acidic sourness_ of his mouth.

Maybe Zim would smell it and **come hunt him down** for covering his home in nasty human fluids. The thought had Dib _grinning_ before slowly it eased away into a _hollow_ frown.

“ _Ok_ little dude, **we got to do this** , buddy. Cause we’re **Dibble the reckless science experiment** _with no fears_ and **his trusty sidekick** _Gir_!” Dib’s _so stupid_ as if these words would make the pit of his stomach go away. “ _Actually_ , hold on.” Speaking as he pulled open the small wall closet and pulled out a towel, _tossing_ it on the counter. Where he turned to, _gently_ lay Gir down over it and _wrapped him up_ , leaving one arm out so Gir could continue to hold his fingers. Dib told himself it was for Gir, _but he knew better_.

_Scooting_ the little robot up against the wall where they couldn't _accidentally_ fall off the counter. Dib spoke in a _stern_ voice, pointing at Gir with one finger “ **Stay** , I need to -” and turned away so he could he hunt for, “ **Aa**! _HUH_!” Pulling out a box of gloves and masks. “Better **safe** than _sorry_.”

_Grinning_ , Dib _hastily_ put on the gloves and several masks. So many they were _threatening to pop_ off his face. But, the smell of _rotting_ flesh is never something he would get used to, paranormal investigator or not.

With an afterthought, he tossed several towels over the puddle on the floor and tied towels to his shoes with medical tape. Hoping to keep as much of what was all over the floor, _off him_. Before constructing the phone to the plasma gun so he had a better point and shot option. At least until he could get into the room and get his own weapons.

“ **Ready** little buddy?” Dib asked, voice _muffled_ and hardly understandable as he picked Gir backup and _tucked_ them into his arm, again.

He wasn’t sure Gir _heard_ him until he looked to find the little dude giving him _a weak thumbs up_.

_And off they went_. This time Dib didn’t bother to prepare himself or to make sure nothing was going to kill him the moment he entered. If whatever had done that hadn’t come in, why he was _puking_ and _sobbing_ like a child. It wasn’t going to murder him coming into the room.

However, not even the masks could save Dib from the **wretched** smell the moment the door opened. _It seeps into his skin, covers his tongue and puddles in his lungs_. He could feel himself gag, eyes watering. Before _swallowing_ and trying to breathe as little as possible.

_Stepping_ inside his room, or what was left of it. Gun _trained_ on the hallway entrance. Dib closed the bathroom door behind him with his foot. Before _swiftly_ turning to lock it and then swirl back around. He was tempted to lean against the door, _but it too is covered in gore_ and Dib had seen the damage _PAK-legs alone_ could do to even this sturdy metal door Zim had constructed.

Ignoring the room for a moment, Dib headed over to the hallway, _locking_ the door _without lookin_ g out, before turning to the room. Observing the _gruesome_ scene before him. Light _swinging_ back and forth, he _swallowed_.

Whatever’s left _had once been human_ , that much was obvious from the _corpse_. From the drips along the hallway the human’s day had ended in the front room and was carried through the hall to his room, **why**? Whatever had attacked them had used _needless **violence**_ on something weaker. The **_carnage_** here has _no rhyme or reason_ for a predator or not to _shred apart_ their kill and _decorate_ the surrounding area in its remains and body fluids.

_Then again_ , Dib isn’t versed in animals. He’s versed in _cryptids, mythical creatures, monsters and aliens_. Though, in all his years working with them he’s _never seen this behaviour_ , not until that alien back in the forest; with the reports of its carnage, _but it had dwindled the longer it roamed and fed_.

**Did that mean ー**

Dib _turned_ to the corner of the room, _noticing_ Computer’s monitor hidden inside the ceiling was _now_ hanging out, just barely _swinging_ back and forth as if something had _bumped_ it.

“ _Computer_?” Dib called out.

**He didn’t imagine crap**. There’re no _drafts_ in this room. Might _as well_ be airtight, when the windows are _shut_ and Computer isn’t _circulating_ the air. And their monitor torn out of the ceiling _had happened days ago_. It shouldn’t even still be swinging. It was as if _he was being **led around** by a poltergeist **trying to get his attention** and Dib’s eyes lit up, realization hitting him_.

The _reason_ Computer wasn’t _answering_ him and the reason _small things_ are made to _catch his attention_ , ー

He _growled_ , **fucking Zim**. It had to be _that bastard_.

“ **Voice _Activation_ , Computer _Override_ \- Zims _Silent Treatment_ Protocol - _Authentication_ Voice; A _uthorization_ , Dribble Membrane.**”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, for the Hits. And for all those who read it and follow, Kudo'd, Bookmarked, Subscribed and Commented! Bless! And remember, if you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask!


	5. PapaComputer, and A Broken Soldier's Mantra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> DIES ιrᥲᥱ, dιᥱs ιᥣᥣᥲ,  
>  soᥣvᥱt sᥲᥱᥴᥙᥣᥙm ιᥒ fᥲvιᥣᥣᥲ,
> 
> Dᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴍᴀʀᴠᴇʟ﹐  
> ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀɪsᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ﹐  
> ᴛᴏ ʀᴇsᴘᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ Jᴜᴅɢᴇ.  
> Wʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ Jᴜᴅɢᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ sɪᴛ﹐  
> ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ʟɪᴇs ʜɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀ﹕  
> ɴᴏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴍᴀɪɴ ᴜɴᴘᴜɴɪsʜᴇᴅ.
> 
> Iᥙdᥱx ᥱrgo ᥴᥙm sᥱdᥱbιt,  
>  qᥙιdqᥙιd ᥣᥲtᥱt ᥲρρᥲrᥱbιt:  
>  ᥒιᥣ ιᥒᥙᥣtᥙm rᥱmᥲᥒᥱbιt.
> 
> Wʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇɴ sʜᴀʟʟ I﹐ ᴘᴏᴏʀ ᴡʀᴇᴛᴄʜ [ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ᴀᴍ]﹐ sᴀʏ﹖  
> Wʜɪᴄʜ ᴘᴀᴛʀᴏɴ sʜᴀʟʟ I ᴇɴᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ﹐  
> ᴡʜᴇɴ [ᴇᴠᴇɴ] ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴍᴀʏ [ᴏɴʟʏ] ʜᴀʀᴅʟʏ ʙᴇ sᴜʀᴇ﹖  
> Mʏ ᴘʀᴀʏᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴡᴏʀᴛʜʏ﹕  
> ʙᴜᴛ O Tʜᴏᴜ﹐ [ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʀᴛ] ɢᴏᴏᴅ﹐ ɢʀᴀᴄɪᴏᴜsʟʏ ɢʀᴀɴᴛ  
> ᴛʜᴀᴛ I ʙᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴜʀɴᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʟᴀsᴛɪɴɢ ғɪʀᴇ.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I joke! The future chapters do not get worse; just more sad, on the edge and a bit violent. It is going be Yo-Yo carnival time, “come one come all and get your;
> 
> **PApa Computer!! (LOTS AND LOTS, So much, they’re like in every section, but the first!) - They are a dad to Zim, Gir, Minimoose, and both Gaz and Dib, but mostly Dib.
> 
> **Background on Computer, Zim, The Empire and Brains! (A bit of Dib and mention of Daddy Membrane and Dad’s Computer&Professor… if you squint, lol. Don’t worry, there will be much more later.) 
> 
> **ME stringing you around and not giving you the info you want. <3 Because, [REDACTED!] 
> 
> Ok, for more serious things; Sorry, I was late. I know, a lot of you, don’t follow, my Tumblr and therefore not aware I would be late. I would also like to note, I did NOT realize it’s Obligated Family week. My little sibling and I do not celebrate, Thanksgiving, however, our Father does, and we have no choice, but, to partake. So I will miss this Saturday’s chapter.. and maybe next. I will for sure announce it on Tumblr, but I might add EDIT: next Wednesday on here, to keep you informed.
> 
> **\-------**
> 
> **Trigger’s or Squicks for this chapter are;** PTSD Related Symptoms, Suicidal Ideation, Mental Breakdowns, Dissociating Character’s, Guilt Tripped Character’s, Poor&Bad Self-esteem’s Expressed in Unhealthy Ways, Unhealthy Possession & Obsession of Characters, Explicit Language, Mention of Injuries, Mention of and NonDescriptive Violence and Abuse, Violent bad-mouthing of Red and Purple (sorry you two, I love you; I know you suffer as other Irkens did, but Computer and Zim do not at all like you.) I guess, badmouthing of The Empire and Brains (But, does anybody like those guys?)
> 
> **For those who read these;** I am shamelessly promoting my own Irken OC short story, again, because; I am still extremely proud, if it. It’s called “IZ: AN INVADER’S WILL - UNDER THE EMPIRE.” which you can find in my works. _Apparently, none of my links are working here. UGH, I must fix them all, somehow, someday._ (I will also be adding another short, IZ OC story freturing Aquatic Bounty Hunter & Angry Thief Moth.)
> 
> **EDIT: Wed 02** As promised, I'm here to tell you I'll be missing this Saturday, as well. I'll be back the following on the 11. <3 and I did put up my other IZ Fanmade Character Story with my Angry Moth Theif. <3 Please check it and my Fandmade Irken Invader Story.

Leaving Zim's human,  _ with _ instructions, in the safe confines of their _ other _ parental units' territory, they know  _ without a doubt _ , Dib will adhere to this time,  _ because _ of his guilt.

Zim must now get as far away from what causes them…  _ softness _ and makes them  _ question _ his convictions. A  _ vulnerability _ Zim can have no longer. It is essential, Zim is alone to  _ lock away _ all that this Dirtball; they now call home, and its inhabitants have  _ grown _ Zim in to. From the once clueless big-eyed blinded smeet; The Empire  _ moulded _ with  _ brute force _ and re-become that Irken.

"zIM  **is** IRKen  _ Soldier _ ," Zim said,  _ whispering _ to nobody. Fist clenched to his chest, over his core, in a long- _ forgotten _ oath. The other closing around the navigation stick, of his Voot, so  _ tightly _ , it  _ groaned _ under his claws.

Walled from _remembering_ in his organic brain meats. Zim _dredges_ up from their PACK, phrases of their Irken training days. 'Whatever it takes to **execute** IRKen ejective, even at cost of **一 //Static// 一** _life_.'

" _IRKens_ **not fearing**... _IRKens_ **hesitate never**... We **are一** " Voice trailing off into old memory. 'In _war_ , in _name_ of _IRK_ **//Static//** , under **//Static//** _IRKen_ have **no loyalties** outside **一**.'

Zim makes a  _ dreadful _ noise, shutting opticals tight, his back straight and tense. A claw clutches at the base of his antenna;  _ digging in _ , his other fists pressing into the continuous part of the Voot's console;  _ for support, for grounding, for anything _ ! Except being forced to  **endure** this overpowering  **sense of doom** . In  _ desperation _ , Zim raises his fist, opticals popping open and  _ slaps _ down an open palm over the control panel; vibrations  _ shooting _ up his arm shatter the moment, and Zim lets his sore antenna go  _ with _ a shaky breath.

There are _situations_ that Zim must work out. Many, **_many_** things to accomplish in such a tight timetable. There is no space for the interruption of _inferior_ breakdowns. Zim will **not** return to Home-base as **urged** by his human, no matter the tones and pleas used, after all, Zim's wounds… they are **not** _significant_.

Back still straight, a  _ deep _ breath in...  _ then out _ . Zim looks out into the  _ poisonous _ mists of white, in every direction as both his hands return to more  _ meaningful _ jobs; disengaging autopilot and entering new coordinations in.

….. 

Watching a sea of miles and miles of  _ burning _ oranges and reds,  _ smothered _ by black.

Zim informs themselves, again,  **this is for the best** ; the best  _ for Zim _ …. The best for  _ all of them _ ...

His claws,  _ digging _ into the base of his antennae;  _ torn _ by two selves.

... For  _ his new home planet _ .

**Nothing is missed** ; no  _ calming _ green, no nasty  _ inferior _ beasts or  _ stupid _ humans….  **All is gone** ; just ashes  _ and _ more ashes. 

Zim has left  _ no _ stone, not turned.

All  _ will _ hail, yet another freak accident; for humans are  _ senseless _ . Led  _ like _ ... Irkens...  **to slaughter** with  _ blissful _ ignorance and  _ blind _ … controlled  **obedience** .

Zim tries _so hard_ , to numb it all; _to blank_ his mind, with the _renewed_ **cold** mantra of _The Empire_.

Back and forth, back and forth.

**Still** , Zims  _ ripped _ apart by the  **thought of home** . The _ need _ Zim always  _ demanded _ and is given to them  _ for free _ by those here. And the path Zim has  _ not wanted _ but  **requires** rekindling….

_Greedy_ , Zim has **always** been so. **Nothing** _wrong_ with having **it all**.… Zim _could_... It would not **hurt** ….

Back to the  _ secret  _ earthen labs, Zim  _ discarded _ long ago for  _ another path _ . A lab unknown by all, except Zim;  _ the sole object _ left to themselves,  _ even Zim _ could keep silent about. Not Irk, not Computer, not even his Dib. A  _ particular _ place where Zim could travel to  _ vanish _ from the universe where nobody would ever find them…  _ not even _ his Gir, and Zim could stop existing.

At one point, they  _ contemplated _ something akin to now. Back then, when those  _ ghastly, wretched, inferior _ Tallest  **dared** to tell Zim, that Zim is not exceptional! That Zim is not significant;  _ wanted or needed _ ! LIES! Dib~stinky and Gir  **needs** Zim. Computer  **wants** Zim.

And again, back when Zim made that  _ mistake _ , The Florpus... A FOOLISH TERRIBLE MISTAKE! Zim  _ stupidly _ chose to side wrong, and Dib~hybrid so  **enraged** and  **betrayed** by Zims’  _ fears _ ; Zim  _ almost _ lost everything, yet his Dib had  _ forgiven _ them. There is  **no room for forgiveness now** or  _ then too's _ , either; **Zim has lost everything this time!**

Fists clenching harder and harder. A rush of  _ overwhelming _ emotions assaulting Zim and an even hot  _ acidic  _ **_rage_ ** builds, because  _ what _ has Zim done to  _ warrant _ this  **cruelty** !

The _shrill-_ ** _crunch_** , of _whining_ metal gives way, _under_ Zim's fists **_slammed_** with all his Irken strength. Alarms **_blare_** warnings. Red lights, _flashing_ ; the whole console **_sparks_** and his ship _dips_ **_dangerously_**.

Cursing themselves in  _ native _ tongue. Zim **_rages_ ** , at the piece of junk, they have been _ unwilling _ to upgrade in space or trash, for parts for their new ship  _ The Znd _ . No matter how much Dib or Computer _ complains _ and  _ pleads _ Zim, too. Or Ma'tay says; would be another step in _ distancing _ themselves from  **who the** **_Tallest_ ** **made Zim** , and  **who** **_Zim_ ** **has made of themselves** .

' **_Useless_ ** , good  _ for _ nothing!' What a  **_sick_ ** joke this, and that was. All  _ Zim _ is!

Frustratingly,  _ debunked _ . It would not be much use,  _ except _ to do a single job, now.

Unsurprisingly, Zim  **_crashes_ ** attempting to land the Voot, down onto the old underground ship port.

It  _ does _ not matter,  **none of it matters.**

Zim pauses, a moment in the  _ silence _ of the noisy landing, and the non-existent dust clearing. To plug his PAK into the Voot for all stored data. Zim WILL NOT leave all his  _ memories _ here; they  **must** be part of Zim,  _ even _ if they  **_cannot_ ** take those wherever Zim will go,  _ when _ ...

Leaving the room. Zim heads to the decontamination chamber;  _ scrubbing _ themselves raw. Stripping what is left of his outfit;  _ abandoning _ the fragments along the way, without care, as they  _ usually _ would. Treating wounds after; the worst of them the large gash at his side, that had Zim been  _ anything _ other than Irken, they would have died. 

**Laughing** **_bitterly_ ** . The  _ silly _ humans would call that,  **irony** ?

Staring now at his cleansed  _ nude _ form; in the reflective surface of the Irken pooling mirror. Zim  _ lightly _ runs the tips of his claws across organic coverings, with a  **_deep_ ** frown.

All Zim has here is his  **_little_ ** **invader** outfits;  _ long ago outgrown  _ in  **body** and  **mind** . Zim would rather,  _ Dib-beast strap them to a table and cut them open alive and feeling everything _ ;  **then ever put one of those** **_offending_ ** **things back on** . 

It is a good thing that unlike Dib~blushy. Zim does  **not** care about  _ modesty _ or  _ nudity _ outside once upon a time, _ the pride _ of wearing the Invader uniform  _ to show _ his  **elite status** and  _ gloat _ ; about his rank.

**High-pitched** _laughter_ bubbles up; **bitter** and **hysterical**. PAK legs jut out in a flash; **_tearing apart_** the lab; in _rage, hurt_ and _loss_.

DISGUSTING! UNFORGIVABLE! REVOLTING!

Zim  _ wishes _ nothing more than to, as Dib says,  **to** **_give_ ** **the finger** to The Empire to The Tallest; to be  _ disrespectful, to  _ **_destroy, burn_ ** _ and  _ **_erase_ ** . Because they did so to Zim first!

**Screaming** _until_ not even _yelling_ helps. 

His legs give out from under them;  _ crashing _ Zim to the ground, within all the destruction of  _ his making _ . 

_ Striking _ fists upon the floor, before  _ curling _ in on themselves….

_ Why, Zim? _

**_What_ ** _ , did Zim do, to  _ **_deserve_ ** _ this life? _

_ It  _ **_hurts_ ** _... so, much. _

A noise escapes _without_ permission; sounding _horribly_ **broken**.

PAK  _ providing _ from its data banks a  _ memory _ UNWELCOMED of Tallest Red voice, ' _ Think of it this way, Zim... _ '

At least they  _ cannot _ see Zim now; The  **Tallests are dead** , and The  **Empire is gone** . Zim,  _ however _ , is still here.  **Zim's won** , … Zim's alive. 

They cannot make a  _ mockery _ of Zim...

VENGEFULNESS 

Zim  **_wishes_ ** . That if  _ somehow _ still alive, they  _ would _ return. So Zim can  _ experience _ the  **_terror_ ** on Red and Purples faces if Zim showed up **_infected_ ** .

**One last grandstand** . Zims’  _ always craved _ going out with a  **bang** ... 

They  _ deserved _ that, at least.

A  _ harsh _ and  _ dark  _ chuckle.

Standing. 

Zim made their way over to the  _ only _ part of the lab, they left  _ pristine _ . 

PAK pulling out a cable and attaching to the console, for its data; they entered several protocols; including a  _ total memory wipe _ of his lab system and a  _ countdown clock _ .

And left.

**Zim** is _selfish_. **_Greedy_**. Instant _death_ is **too good** for their _crimes_ , but **dying** _alone_ scares them. So, Zim **_will_** _return to his home_ ; to make sure they _prepare_ those that **belong** to Zim, _for life withou_ t Zim.

“ **Voice** **_Activation_ ** **, Computer** **_Override_ ** **\- Zims** **_Silent Treatment_ ** **Protocol -** **_Authentication_ ** **Voice; A** **_uthorization_ ** **, Dribble Membrane.** ”

It wasn't the best Irken; no matter  _ how hard _ Dib worked to sound fluent, Zim  _ loved _ to remind him of his  _ flimsy _ ,  _ inferior _ short-tongue; not cut out for a  _ harsh _ and  _ heavy _ click language. The best he can produce are the  _ clicks of several Earthen languages _ . Making him sound like a  _ foreigner _ , even when he  _ pronounces _ things correctly. So, Zim  _ came up with _ , as part of their shared agreement;  _ in trust _ , he'd set  _ protocols _ that allowed Dib to  _ override _ all previous ones;  _ even Zims _ , when spoken in Irken,  **_trusting_ ** Dib, to use  **_only_ ** in emergencies.

New commands set. 

Dib lets out a  _ rush _ of air; anxieties lifting a tad, as Computer's monitor  _ flickers _ to life, with a  _ click _ . 

Their screen  _ glowing _ in the dark of the room and  _ illuminating _ the  **_horrors_ ** around Dib, as random pixelated dot patterns, of white and black snow; buzzed like  _ that of an old Tv broadcas _ t, mixing with the sounds of  _ sparking _ wires; torn and loose. When suddenly the screen  _ flickers _ in lines of colours; the  _ calming static _ , cutting to an  **_unpleasant_ ** analogue sound.

Dib  _ grits _ his teeth, the hand, holding the blaster,  _ shooting  _ up to cover an ear. Leaning sideways to  _ hide _ the other, why still attempting to  _ shield _ Gir in his arms.

Zim must have  _ isolated _ Computer's primary speaker's; explaining the two broken monitors, and  _ shutdown _ of all electronics in the base.

" **Computer!** Guestroom,  _ please _ !" And with that request;  _ silence falls _ as the screen cuts out, and the room  _ descends _ once more into  **_darkness_ ** , except for the light of his phone, bouncing off, the crimson  _ splashed _ walls.

" **Fuck!** "

Computer's sensors pick up Zim's readings as soon as its Master steps across, the outer perimeter, of its boundaries; at the footpath of their yard.  _ Confusion _ is the first emotion it draws, knowing Zim left in the Voot, but now walks back on foot.  _ Worry _ follows. Picking up the phantom traces of  _ elevated emotions _ and the  _ wall erected _ around him, in an attempt to  _ dampen _ or  _ hide _ any remaining. 

Of course, something happened  _ when hasn't it _ ? Computer, however, had  _ prepared _ itself for the possibility its smeets trip would get worse; given how it started. 

This time it seems Master's Voot, is now among, the many previous, things or beings that have suffered as collateral damage.

A sigh to itself;  _ so as not to disturb _ , Gir behaving. Computer opens the door; both in sympathy to Zims' emotional state, and  _ concern _ that he may very well break it down. Leaving Computer to clean up, and fix.

ZIM does not stop, as they  _ stomp _ up the stone path and  _ waltz _ through the front door. Only a  _ little thankful _ , they did not have to open it themselves.

As expected, ZIM finds Gir still glued to the couch watching a new Telenovela, Computer discovered recently. Their robotic voice;  _ loud, high-pitched electronic, _ and  _ echoing _ , in laughter; over the sounds, of two humans  _ screaming _ and  _ crying _ at each other. Computer's monitor hovering above the couch; no doubt  _ deeply enthralled _ , by its new hobby, Gir introduced them to. Watching Telenovelas has even become a family affair between them, like old Saturday night movies, with their Stink~human livid here.

Paused at the door watching this; ZIMs' buried emotions  **_threaten_ ** to slip, before quickly being  **_shoved_ ** down, again, with only a single  _ twitch _ of his antennae and the  _ tremble _ of his mouth. To think, ZIM almost did not return.

Computer is the first to turn to Zim; observing, without a word. 

For a moment, they worry Computer knows. It is an  _ absurd idea _ but one, not shaken, so effortlessly.

Shutting the door with a  **_bang_ ** ; announcing themselves, Gir jumps. "MAAAASSTA!" Screaming at full volume, Gir  _ launches _ themselves from the couch. "WE MISSED YOU!"

ZIM used to this daily behaviour. Is not  _ prepared _ for the emotional blow, of their little robots' words.  _ Shock _ , followed by  _ yearning _ , threatens to  **_break_ ** through, as they struggle against the  _ overwhelming _ emotions of  **_fear_ ** and  _ loss _ , that Zim almost misses catching Gir; attempting to latch on to his face.

Gir giggling in one hand, ZIM tosses them up; like _ the human children _ , they have seen playing with older siblings and parental units. His little robot,  _ bursting _ into even louder, uncontrolled fits of laughter. ZIM lets the moment  _ soak _ in, a small smile forming, as they prepare to catch Gir on the way down and throw them again. Only for ZIM’s Gir to be  **_stolen_ ** mid-fall, by a single black wire.

Momentary  _ surprise _ , then flux  _ anger _ ; to hide the  _ uneasiness _ , and  _ suspicion _ rising at being silently watched.

" **You** DARE  _ STEAL _ from Z **IM** !" 

_ Shaking _ a fist at Computer; whose watching them. 

" **_Please refrain_ ** **, from tracking strange readings** **_all_ ** **over Gir.** "

Squeedlyspooch,  _ dropping _ in anxiety, ZIM  _ sneers _ with genuine  **_hostility_ ** . "What!?"

Computer gives their Master, a look that says,  _ you know what _ .

It's sensors searching.

Zim's PAK is supposed to  _ help regulate his emotions _ and the  _ excreted chemicals _ that give away to Irkens bodies'  _ scent _ change. Taught since their making,  _ to hide any outward show _ of what The Empire deemed a weakness. And so Computer's spent  _ countless _ hours observing its Master, since they first met, and learned its smeets not great at hiding their emotions, and their PAK does not help in regulating them either. So, when Zim  _ attempts _ to do so, **_there is cause for concern_ ** .

Visual  _ intake _ of its Masters' black antennae, brushed back against their head; a show of  **_aggression_ ** , they twitch  _ subtlety _ to express Zim's  **_alarm_ ** ; he attempts to hide. Its smeets overly bared teeth and posture made to look  **threatening** and taller, do nothing to help; as its  _ sensors _ pick up its Master's  _ pheromones _ and  _ brainwaves _ , showing  **_anger_ ** , and more importantly,  **_trepidation_ ** .

" **Master...** "

ZIM  **_growls_ ** in warning, skin feeling  _ tight _ and  _ chilled _ . The need burns through them to get  _ as far away _ from Computer and there soon to be probie-questions, but they are  **_no coward_ ** ; ZIM runs from  _ nothing _ and has  **no** **_fears_ ** !

Before its smeet can  _ complain _ or  _ hide _ , Computer gives Zim a look, that means;  _ what is not spoken is up for no debat _ e, to do so, means being  **_thrown out the front door_ ** of the base and  **_shot_ ** with their ugly lawn decor, like  _ a smeet misbehaving _ .

ZIM makes a  _ disgruntled _ noise, and  _ snuffs _ at Computer, as they follow,  **_complaining_ ** . An almost  _ guilty sadness, threatening _ to  **_swallow_ ** ZIMs' small  _ pride _ in slipping in their  **manipulation of Computer** ,  _ to hide the truth _ .

The moment Dib enters the guest room. Computer speaks. " **Dib, I am** **_overjoyed_ ** **to look upon you, my smeet.** "

Seeing Computer, before him; their digital image capturing  _ an expression of deep concern _ , that becomes  _ an overwhelming relief _ , upon seeing him; the  **_weight of everything crashes dow_ ** n on Dib, and suddenly, he's  **_sobbing_ ** ;  _ loud _ and  _ hard _ , like  _ when he was a little boy _ . Gun and phone, dropping from his hand to the carpeted floor.

More than ever before. Dib wished Computer had agreed to the body. But even if _ they couldn't understand Computers' reasoning _ , they all  **respected Computer's decision** to only use this form. Nevertheless, what Dib wouldn't do to be held by the being who in Dibs  _ opinion _ , in his  _ heart _ , had been  **_more parental and nurturing_ ** towards Dib than  **_his own flesh and blood_ ** .

Watching the scene, Computer  **_froze_ ** with the feeling of  _ helplessness _ , yet again. When left unable to do anything for another, it cherishes. 

Tilting its screen, Computer finds Gir;  _ swaddled _ in a fluffy towel and  _ secured _ within loving arms. An  **unanticipated need to cry overcomes** , despite being unable to physically, as Computer remembers the feeling of  **_despair_ ** when Zim's  **claws sliced through Girs frame** ; the  _ shock _ and  _ panic _ , it's never seen, on their little robotics overly expressive features.

Moving as close and as low as Computer can get to its smeets; unplugging wires concealed within. It  _ utilizes them for actions not intended for them _ . Such as  _ self-indulgent _ hugs, for, and with the beings' Computer loves. Wires  _ wrapping _ around Dib, its ends gently  _ poke _ at Gir; in a  _ light caress _ , to convey comfort and let them know it is there.

Face-to-face now, Dib leans in to  _ press _ their forehead to Computer's cool screen. Body  _ shaking _ , with  **deep** **_shuddering_ ** **sobs** ; that fill the room.

" **Cry** **_not_ ** **little Membrane,** "  _ Wiggling _ one of its wires, now stuck between Gir's little hand. A single glowing eye  **_dimmed_ ** by barely  _ contained _ artificial-life as they watch. " **the** **_Master_ ** **will never** **_forgive_ ** **himself** ."

Although, once an  _ unthinkable _ action for Zim and still,  **_disconcerting_ ** to Computer, to find their smeet had been travelling around  _ outside _ the safety of Home-base, Dibs, or Mi Nɛkt̪ɔ  **_exposed_ ** under a holographic outfit. Computer has learned, sometimes it is better off  _ not knowing or questioning _ , the  **_bizarre_ ** thoughts that makeup Gir, Zim and Dib's headspace.

**Whatever is going on** , its smeet will  _ eventually _ either  **_break down_ ** and tell one of them or their mental health Ward. If not, Zim will  _ unhealthily  _ **_suppress_ ** it, until whatever is bothering him, returns to  **torment** them all,  _ at a later date _ . If they are all so  _ lucky _ , its Master will figure it out on their own, in a  **_healthy_ ** _ construct _ . 

Computer can only  _ hold the desire _ that it is anything, but the suppression situation; Zim makes not only their life hard but all of theirs,  _ who care for him _ . For now, all Computer can do is  _ its job _ , when allowed, or after  **_threatening_ ** its Master, as they did so earlier, with  _ hope _ Zim caves. 

A  _ deep _ sigh, Computer turns to its smeet sitting on the purple, white and pink meditation pillow; Gaz bought Zim for their  _ Earthen birthday _ , some rotations ago. After hearing Dib rant about Zim, sitting on a cold steel table; like  _ some uncared for lab animal _ , during his PAK examination.

Something for the longest time,  **Zim would allow nobody** ,  _ not even Computer _ ; whose programmed, to aid its Master in anything, they might need assistance in. In interrogating its smeet, they would remark; ' _ Zim is amazing,  _ **_only_ ** _ Zim is good enough, to  _ **_behold_ ** _ the wonders within. _ '

Computer would then point out,  **the only ones allowed** to be in the programming or open PAKs; outside charging them, were  _ PAK Specialists, Control Brains _ , and  _ Computer _ ; a 'special' AI for Zim; disguised as an AI for and ‘elite’ Invaders. As they are all certified to a degree, to handle the delicate inner processes of the PAK with training, or in Computers case,  _ having the appropriate downloaded information _ , why The Control Brains had been the  **masterminds of PAKs** themselves. To allow somebody outside one of them is equivalent to a nobody human, strapping another of their kind to a table to conduct brain surgery or, in  _ Zim's case, brain surgery on themselves _ .

PAKs may be more  _ resilient to damage and less temperamenta _ l, than their organic counterparts, especially in comparison to most humans inferior tech.  **PAKs, however, are not 100% infallible** ; Zim is proof of that. Many Irkens are, more than what The Empire would have ever willingly admitted to in pride and political reason.

With a crackle, its Master declared; ' _ Zim is too great to follow silly rules,  _ **_that apply not_ ** _ , to one as great as Zim _ .' 

Computer had known it was a  **ruling order, programmed into properly working PAKs** by The Control Brains. Although, not having known at time, for the reason of keeping their subjects from tampering with certain things, they had not wanted to be known or messed with and  _ to keep Irkens submissive and controllable _ . Still, Computer decided, not to point this fact out to its Master.

With observation and time, Computer came to  **_suspect_ ** , the reason Zim allowed  _ nobody to touch their PAK _ , is not that he saw everyone, as inferior enough not to help. But because  **its Master, subconsciously feared** , anybody near  _ their most vital part _ of themselves. Even above their organic brain. Because although, an organic-brain is also capable of twisted change and damage by outside forces; as Dib and Zim suffered. It took time, and it is harder to break the spirit of a living creature.  _ A PAK tampering _ , however, is  **almost always devastating to an Irkens entire self and causes irreversible damage** .

It was not until its Masters'  **evaluation** , when Red and Purple attempted  **to rid** themselves of Zim; one last time. That led Computer to speak more directly with its human. That it occurred to it that  _ Zims'  _ **_fears_ ** _ and its own speculation _ were, or had they been,  **_baseless_ ** .

After the evaluation, its Master was even more  **_averse_ ** _ to another's touch _ ; attempting to go  **_dangerously_ ** _ extended periods without charge _ , leaving Computer  **_forced_ ** _ to intervene _ or risk Zim harming themselves further or somehow accidentally killing themselves.

In the months leading after, its Master's PAK would react to whatever Zim  _ perceived _ as a  **threat** before he could consciously control it; pulling out weapons and aiming it at  _ anything _ , that dared to step too close behind. Dib, as did Gir, quickly learned, they needed to be  _ well within _ the Irkens' line of sight. And thus began, Computers  **immense** hoop-jumping, of new routines in the  _ tender handling _ , without its smeets knowledge, of their  **new** and  **_renewed_ ** **phobias** ;  _ Zim  _ **_adamantly, refused_ ** _ to admit _ .

Perhaps, that is when Dib, like Computer long ago, realized Zim is not always as they pretend to be. That  _ all of them _ , are alike, in some aspect and have problems of  **_shattered_ ** _ dreams and internal  _ **_fears_ ** , stemming from issues, none of them wished to speak of.

A large screen, taking up most of, one of its metal walls;  _ dings _ , signalling the finishing of an analyzation of both organics and PAK coding.

Zim's PAK  _ whirled _ and  _ hummed _ loudly, as it came down from inspection. 

Computer had heard its Master's PAK make  _ daily noises _ and  _ light up in ways it should not _ , at least, never heard or seen, outside WAR time with  **sufficiently injured** Irkens. But when Computer had first forced Zim to undergo one of these. It had been, ... not so much  _ concerning _ , as Computer had not cared, not in the sense that it did now, but  _ strange _ .

With time and  _ curiosity _ growing, Computer learned, with a bit of... VERY  **_illegal_ ** and  **_forbidden_ ** hacking;  _ having learned, from the best _ . Computer discovered  **_restricted_ ** and  **_hidden_ ** Empire Files as to the cause of these  _ noises _ and  _ strange lighting _ . Are due to Zim's PAK 'code disorder' of being, well - Computer would not say,  _ Defective _ . Not after they all learned, what all the things Defective could mean to those who used this label, as an umbrella term.

To **The Control Brains** and by extension, **_The Empire_** , they _considered any Irken who went against what they deemed the perfect unfeeling robot, and they cannot control_ ; a Defect. In many cases like Computers, **The Tallest or** ** _even Tallers_** considered an Irken defective _for merely being in the way of somebody in power and greater height_. Other times a Defective is an **Irken** _who another Irken doesn’t like and sees as sizably inferior to themselves_.

For the most part,  _ the label is not enough to consider an Irken's life up for termination _ , so long as  _ The Control Brains deemed that Irken still fruitful of using, which is usually never _ . At least, it had been so, until  **_Zim took out most of the Irken Population_ ** **;** during Operation Impending Doom 1.  _ Forcing the Control Brains to regulate their kill, and erase order, for worry they would kill the rest of their subjects _ . Tallest Red and Purple had been a thorn in The Control Brains side; for their indiscriminate need to terminate any Irken that annoys them. However, only getting off with warnings, because Zim's wipeout left Irk hurting, In Control Brains minds, for old enough Irken's with both intelligent and resourceful, why still being easy to control, 'figureheads.' 

It did not stop, however,  _ and made it, even more so _ , that Irkens labeled this had a bigger target on their backs, for the greatest of cruelties and worthy of being watched. The Control Brains, and Empire, having twisted the minds of Irkens into the belief,  _ that being in the eyes of The Empire a good thing _ ; like Zim, like even Computer once, and many others outside The Tallest, who knew the truth. Leaving them blind to the fact  **being in the eyes of The Empire was the last thing anybody wants** .

Moving, Computer looks away from its smeet, and over to the coding it has pulled up on the giant screen. It could move, all this coded information gathered, over to its own, but, in a ridiculous idea, Computer enjoyed viewing information off another screen. This made it feel as  **if these monitors Zim and it built are an extension of its being** . And it had this silly smeeling thought, to tell the now-debunked Empire, the human expression of ' _ fuck you, my life is my own _ !'

For a moment, Computer paused in thought.  _ Registering _ in another part of its mind what it just read. It speaks aloud to no-one;  **_alarmed_ ** . " **_That_ ** **cannot be....** "

The comment  **_startles_ ** Dib. 

_ Sucking _ in a wet breath and  _ coughing _ , he cringes at the bubbles of  _ spit _ covering Computer's screen; their antennae longer than Dib has seen any of the other Irken, he's met so far. Their pale light green skin and deep yellowish-brown opticals, staring back at him, from within their artificial-life,  _ did not look bothered _ . Instead, three-finger hands pressed against the screen; a  _ soft _ and  _ sad _ expression over their features, including their antennae,  _ drooped low _ .

_ Reaching out _ , Dib presses his own against one, voice  _ shaking _ , as he speaks, gaining more strength at the end, "Computer,  **what** happened?  _ Where _ ’s Zi-” Gir makes a noise and Dib  _ tenderly shushes _ them. Telling them,  _ it's ok _ . Dropping his gaze from Computer to Gir, in hopes to  _ calm _ them down, before Gir starts up their rambling.

Screen  _ flickering _ with a  **_buzz of static_ ** ; a tell that something's bothering Computer.

**It has gotten its wish, somebody now knows** , and Dib would do anything to help, except now, out of all the times of its limbo, of its life,  _ Computer can not find the words to speak _ . 

Is it possible, its Master is not the one that is **_ill-advised_** and **_selfish_** , as Computer perceived them, for his choices? Should it correct itself? **_Lie_** _to their human that Zim is_ ** _dea_** **d** , as its Master _requested_ of it, and **_tell_** _them they_ ** _could do nothing_**. After all Computer, as far as it knows, did not know, _how to actually help_ , its Irken smeet, or _if anything could be done_ **now or ever** ; it wasn't even sure at the moment, **_death_** _wasn't the truth_. 

Seeing the  _ flash _ of hesitance, and knowing the look of  _ Irken's  _ **_debating_ ** _ on the  _ **_truth_ ** _ or a  _ **_lie_ ** , Dib speaks. "Computer,  _ please _ , I'm  **_begging_ ** you." Reaching out again, fingers spreading over their monitor.

For the first time since stepping into House, into the first place that felt like  _ home to Dib _ , there is  **proof Zims not dead** . As  **_horrible_ ** as it all seemed, and as  **_gruesome_ ** as that room is. The  _ hints _ ,  _ slipping in _ and  _ winding _ through Dibs mind,  **_nagging_ ** at him from all he'd seen and heard. Dib knew two sure things;  _ that there's  _ **_time to fix_ ** _ whatever happened, but they had  _ **_to act fast_ ** _ , or that Stupid Alien  _ **_would die for real_ ** .

"Whatever  **Zim did** ,  _ whatever _ has happened, I-  **we can fix it** , no  _ matter _ what. We've come so far...  **he's come too far** … Please,  **_please_ ** Computer,  _ do not  _ **_give up_ ** _ on him _ ."

Finishing  _ diagnostics _ on its smeet, Computer  _ closed _ Zim's PAK and  **rebooted** its Master;  _ into the waking world _ , outside hybernation.

Metal arms  _ descending _ from the ceiling, hand Zim an outfit; to change into, and a tablet; to look over what it found.

Zim gives a  _ soft thank you _ ; taking the offered clothing in one hand. The claws of the other,  _ brushing against _ the fabric with a  **_tenderness_ ** one might  **show something precious** .

Computer observing this  _ out-of-place _ behaviour becomes further  **alarmed** , as it's sensor's pick up a  _ rapid flood _ of  **_grief_ ** from its Master. 

Zim produces a  _ faint  _ **_broken_ ** and  _ wet _ noise, at the back of their throat, before burying into the folded clothing; to hide their face. Pulling his legs to their chest. Antennae droop; like  _ wilted flowers _ . Shoulders  _ shake _ , but  **no** more sound is made or  _ do the  _ **_much-needed_ ** _ tears _ come.

_ Baffled _ and  _ distressed _ by this behaviour, Computer moves closer; but  **is at a loss** . Metal hand  _ hovering _ above its smeets shoulder, before  _ dropping it in  _ **_defeat_ ** .

_ As close and meaningful _ as they are to one another. Zim would  **not** **_want_ ** to be comforted that way without  _ coming to Computer  _ **_themselves_ ** . Instead, it  _ does what no other _ did before: Gir and Dib.  **Computer stays by Zims side** . Their quiet presence, here to tell its Master, _ it was with them _ ; no matter what they believed in themselves, or anybody told them they were  **worthy of** , before.

_ Biting down _ on its pixelated created bottom lip; something picked up  _ observing _ its human smeet. Computer gives into Dibs  **_pleas_ ** and his words. It had  _ not even given up _ on its Master when  **it did not care** . So Computer  **refused** to give up on its oldest smeet, of all times now.

" **_I_ ** **was not** **_sure_ ** **at first.** " Computer speaking, more to itself than Dib. " **When Zim** **_returned_ ** **they did so alone,** **_not_ ** **even his Voot. -** "

" **_What_ ** **!?** " Dib  _ squeaked _ , eyes wide. "He  **left** in it  _ after _ dropping me off!"

Computer stared. Although the Voot is  _ something important to Zim _ . Computer counted it, as yet  **another horrible reminder** of what its smeet works hard to leave behind, and no matter how it happened,  _ it is happy to see it,  _ **_parish_ ** . Deciding to stay silent to this statement, Computer continues on. 

" **My** **_sensors_ ** **indicated previous injuries.** **_One_ ** **that had been serious, but** **_even_ ** **then, those were not** **_quite_ ** **concerning.** "  _ Shame _ enters its deep digital voice. " **_Often_ ** **more, than** **_not_ ** **, when either of** **_you_ ** **returns from an outing,** **_one_ ** **or** **_both_ ** **of you,** **_are_ ** **medical lab, worthy.** "

_ Sighing _ , Computer glances away, and idly picks at the firewall;  _ it still cannot get through _ , before returning to  _ observing _ its human smeet.

" **What made me suspicious** **_were_ ** **, Master Zim's emotions elevated** **_enough_ ** **that my sensors** **_registered them_ ** **as an issue, but it was** **_his_ ** **anxiety that** **_concerned_ ** **me. Even then it was apparent** **_something_ ** **had them on edge,** **_distracting_ ** **them.** " And yet, Computer  **had done nothing** , but waste time.  **_Disgusted_ ** _ at itself _ .

Computer continued. " **The moment** **_I_ ** **questioned Zim, for the** **_unusual_ ** **reading and** **_strange_ ** **signatures, he** **_became_ ** **hostile. So, I requested an** **_internal_ ** **scan, and** **_although_ ** **they fussed, Master** **_Zim_ ** **yielded.** "

Electing to  _ ignore everything else _ , Dib asked the one question, that  **needed** the most answering. "Why  **did** you  _ want _ to scan Zim?" Drawing his free hand away from Computer's monitor; _ to rub the fluids, exhaustion _ and  _ stress-inducing _ headaches building in his face, Dib dislodges his dirty smeared glasses.

Computer's digital Irken hand  _ pressed against its inner world _ of glass, pulled away, as its human smeet did. Its face, taking most of the screen. " **Master Zim, covered in strange things, when you all return, is** **_normal_ ** **from one of** **_your_ ** **cryptic hunts.** **_This time_ ** **, he had already been** **_decontaminated_ ** **and** **_not here_ ** **.** "  _ At the time _ , Computer figured Zim cleaned up at one of the Membranes labs.  _ Now _ it suspected that had not been the case.

The  _ caginess _ its Master displayed, before and after the trip;  **sent up red flags** for Computer. When  _ confronted _ with the saturation of this, unidentified marker,  _ floating around _ and travelling through Zim's organic body. The tests then showed it was  **picking fights with both his organic systems immunity and his PAK security** .

" **I** **_do_ ** **not understand. How** **_my_ ** **database does** **_not_ ** **recognize this** **_infectious_ ** **Nucleoprotein.** "

Dib is q _ uiet _ and  **_uncharacteristically_ ** _ patient _ , listening to Computer speak, at its own pace. Only after it was clear, they finished, did he speak; voice a  _ whisper _ . "Infectious?" It was just when Zim called that alien creature an  _ Infected _ . He'd just thought it was,  **fuck** ,  _ he hadn't thought at all _ ; Dib just figured his Alien was being  **a stupid germaphobe and ignored him** for being  _ aggravating _ and  _ dramatic _ .

" ** _Yes_** **, only present in your** ** _typical_** **contagious living liquids;** ** _a_** **Virus, found within,** ** _yet another_** **_unknown,_** **DNA structure.** " Computer continued with _seriousness_ in its voice. Observing its smeets expression; **_horror_** , overtaking the _confusing_ ** _mess_** _of sorrow_ Dib had been experiencing previously. " ** _We_** **have built** ** _my sensors_** **over the years to detect** ** _numerous substances_** **that can** ** _harm_** **full-blooded Irkens, humans, and hybrids. 一** " 

Remembering a time when they  _ first ended _ up on this planet. The  _ only _ things its sensors would pick up, were things that The Empire,  _ knew hurt Irkens _ . Then as time passed,  **Zim** and at that time, their  **_enemy_ ** **, Dib** helped to add  _ new substances _ to its data files, that later  _ helped foil many attempts on its Master's life _ . 

Then one day out of the blue Computer found new data about the things that could cause  **harm to humans** . Including  _ allergies _ , that only Dib and Gaz had shown. At first, it figured Zim was  _ gathering knowledge to destroy their  _ **_enemies_ ** , yet, not once did Zim use the  **worst of this knowledge to** **_kill_ ** **or** **_seriously harm_ ** **the human** ; always in their way.

Even if Computer  _ did not understand what it meant to be something more _ than what  _ it been recreated _ to be.  **Now it is rather shameful, of how it thought** . When Zim  **swore** ,  _ their mission was above all _ . That the  **human** was a means to  _ wipe from the universe _ . Computer had  _ written many  _ **_reports stating_ ** _ Zims _ **, 'defectiveness'** _ hindered their ability to do their mission _ . Chalking its Masters' actions up to  _ yet another  _ **_disgusting act of broken cod_ ** **e** . However, even back then,  **it could never bring itself to reveal Zims' secret** . Eventually, all unsent letters were  _ deleted, never to be seen _ again.

Despite  _ sensing _ its Masters'  **_building fury_ ** ; Computer continues to push Zim's  _ tolerance _ for  _ disobedience _ and  _cuts them off_ . " **I do not** **_understand_ ** **.** "

Looking over their private tablet, Zim stops. _Calmly turning_ to Computer; whose monitor is far enough away, that Zim would be _forced to chase it, to hit them_ for interrupting. "There is **nothing** _to_ understand. Computer **_serves_** Zim as ordered; _no more, not less_." And _slams_ their hand over the tablet.

Computer thinks it's prepared for its Master's storm. Only ever hearing, that tone from Zim, right before all  **_hell breaks loose_ ** , and its two oldest smeets  _ end up in the medical lab _ with worrying wounds. 

"ZIM  _ HAS _ COMMANDED IT!! NOBODY WILL  _ SPEAK _ WITH THE MEMBRANE HOUSEHOLD!" Zim  **_roars_ ** , jumping to their feet, expression twisted in  **_desperation_ ** and  _ rage _ -

_ Computer is not _ , however,  **prepared** ,  _ not even close _ . Completely taken back by a  **firewall enclosing** around it. Genuine  **_fear_ ** _ overwhelms _ Computer as it  _ barely registers _ the oncoming threat,  **until the last second** , and  _ moves _ . Tablet  **_smashing_ ** into the wall behind; it  **_shatters_ ** . Despite having that thrown with  _ enough force to  _ **_destroy_ ** _ its monitor _ . Computer is too busy,  _ struggling _ , to  **_break_ ** through, to the outside world, its Master has  **_cut them all off_ ** from, for it to be  **_angry_ ** _ , or even  _ **_hurt_ ** _ , with Zim _ .

Zim stands there  _ observing _ ,  **a vacant expression** , antennae hung back, before  _ whispering _ in a  _ tone too soft and  _ **_too final_ ** . "Zim  **needs** some quiet, enough time to...  _ think _ . Zim  **acknowledges** they  _ are _ being selfish. Computer has  _ Nɛkt̪ɔ _ , but, Zim  **promises** this is  _ only for a month _ , and then Computer and Gir will be  **free to leave** ."

Computer  **_halts_ ** , in their  _ struggle _ , at its smeets words, not liking how  _ that last sentence was  _ **_stated_ ** . An unknown  **_dread_ ** _ creeps up _ , that has nothing to do with the  _ sudden feeling of  _ **_claustrophobia_ ** . But Computer  _ knows better than to  _ **_argue_ ** with its Master when its smeet has  _ made up his mind _ . For now,  **it must comply** with Zim. And  _ observe _ and  _ keep a note _ of his actions. If need be, Computer is  **positive** , with time, it could  _ discover a means _ to notify at least Mi Nɛkt̪ɔ to  **_something wrong_ ** .

" **Very well,** **_Sir_ ** **. I concede** **_as you_ ** **have requested.** **_Professor_ ** **Membrane is in the midst of an** **_extensive_ ** **project,** **_anyhow_ ** **. Next time** **_I_ ** **would prefer** **_you_ ** **use** **_words to communicate_ ** **with** **_me_ ** **before carrying out** **_hasty_ ** **and un** **_trust_ ** **ing decisions** **_this_ ** **extreme.** "

Zim makes a face that, to Computer, looks like  _ a regret-filled grimace _ before it is  **gone** , and its Master smirks. " **And** in which  _ language _ would Computer like  _ this mem _ **_o_ ** from Zim? Hmm,  **perhaps** in  _ ones and zeros _ , would be best?" Zims'  _ obnoxious _ laughter, filling the room.

" **You** **_are_ ** **a petulant little** **_smeet_ ** **.** " Computer  _ fires _ back,  **_a smile_ ** _ in its voice _ , and  **_a chill_ ** _ running through its CoreHub _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qᥙᥲrᥱᥒs mᥱ, sᥱdιstι ᥣᥲssᥙs:  
>  rᥱdᥱmιstι ᥴrᥙᥴᥱm ρᥲssᥙs:  
>  tᥲᥒtᥙs ᥣᥲbor ᥒoᥒ sιt ᥴᥲssᥙs.
> 
> Tᴇᴀʀғᴜʟ [ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ] ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀʏ﹐  
> ᴏɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴇᴍʙᴇʀs ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʀɪsᴇ  
> ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴜɪʟᴛʏ ᴍᴀɴ ᴡʜᴏ ɪs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴊᴜᴅɢᴇᴅ.  
> Tʜᴇɴ sᴘᴀʀᴇ ʜɪᴍ﹐ O Gᴏᴅ.
> 
> Oro sᥙρρᥣᥱx ᥱt ᥲᥴᥴᥣιᥒιs,  
>  Cor ᥴoᥒtrιtᥙm qᥙᥲsι ᥴιᥒιs,  
>  Gᥱrᥱ ᥴᥙrᥲm mᥱι fιᥒιs.  
>  Sᥲᥣvᥱ mᥱ, Foᥒs Pιᥱtᥲtιs!
> 
> Thank you, for the Hits. And for all those who read it and follow, Kudo'd, Bookmarked, Subscribed and Commented! Bless!


	6. All For Zim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ¸¸♬·¯·♪·¯·♫¸¸ 𝓘'𝓶 𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓭  
> 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵  
> 𝓘 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓘'𝓶 𝓻𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰  
> 𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓮  
> 𝓕𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓾𝓯𝓯𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓮  
> 𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱𝓮  
> 𝓘 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓘'𝓶 𝓭𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰  
> 𝓘'𝓶 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓭𝓮𝓮𝓹𝓮𝓻 - 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this chapter is a little longer than normal, at 8,515 - Think the rest were 5 to 6K. And as promised, I have given you two chapters this week! However, I will not be back for Chapter 8, until January 9th; a two-week break for holidays again. After that, it will be a straight shoot, unless life gets in the way. 
> 
> Also, I need unstressed time to work on chapters 21 to either 22 or 23 to end the story. Also, I want time to finish reading Mel’s Royalty Au and give feedback. <3 - Speaking of stories and AU’s. Does anybody have recommendations for their own stories or other stories for me to read?
> 
> One more thing, I did not fancy this chapter or the next; I want to know if my readers rather it this way or fancy, because honestly, it sucks for me, it takes forever, even if I like the way it look after. I just don’t want to add more work, if none is better for you.
> 
> **Trigger’s or Squicks for this chapter are;** Mention of Character Death, Explicit Language, Suicidal Ideation, Unhealthy Possession & Obsession of Characters, Vomit, Unhealthy Coping, Mechanism, Self-Mutilation and Punishment, Poor&Bad Self-esteem’s Expressed in Unhealthy Ways, I guess - Badmouthing of The Empire and Brains (But, does anybody like those guys?), just to be safe - Non-Consensual Drugging, Suicide Comment Stated in Matter of Fact Way but could be taken as a Joke, // and just to be sure I am heard, - EVEN MORE Gooey Touchy-Feeling Affections of Concern and MORE between Dib & Zim. (That COULD be taken as ZADR by readers, but it is written with QPP/QPR, in mind.)

The first week goes by in a blink. 

Zim attempts to spend as much time with Computer and Gir. All the while, working around the clock to prevent them from knowing what is going on, as Zim works on remodelling the Old Testing Chamber, with no help.

Zim does not like it.

Paranoia eats away at them faster than the symptoms of the virus are affecting Zim. According to previous recordings; the progression is taking effect as if Zim was an Irken with a healthy immune system and uncompromised PAK. 

Zim is not prepared to experience relative normality, in these hours of ending.

For a while, despite the multiple tests that told them it affects Zim, they are torn by the silly delusion they are nothing but false positives. That everything would be alright, just as Dib told them; they were overreacting. And once more, the Almighty Zim would prove to them all they are The God of Fate, as his Dib~hybrid had once called Zim and they would beat the odds more so then every Irken, ever exposed to this terrifying monstrosity.

What foolish smeet wishes.

Although Zim felt and looked relatively ‘OK’. There were small things they took notice of. That could not be overlooked or considered normal ever. Possibly if Zim had not known an incurable virus had infected them; that slowly drives you insane, until you suffocate and die in horrible pain, which Zim is; they might have shaken off all these little oddities.

Pausing to stare at the flames of the welding torch in hand. It’s flame, with its bright shades of blues, and pale wispy purples, his foolish~creature insists, looks like the back of the cosmic snowballs of frozen gases rocks and dust, Earthen’s call Comets. That Zim now can never show his unknowing Human the genuine beauty of space; without the limited views of the Dib~worm’s inferior eyes.

Thoughts shaken, Zim returns to his welding job.

After they allowed Computer to take their first testing of results; a show of trust, to fool the too trusting. Zim went back in and deliberately lowered Computer’s senses day by day. Enough that by the end of the week, it is as if nothing is wrong, even as Zim grows sicker.

Peace of mind and safety, Zim knows they must do this, as the only way to outsmart Computer. To trick them into a falsehood that they have not been tampered with.

It’s Zim’s job and only theirs to continue to do tests on themselves to keep track of the spread of this vicious beast.

Zim cannot save themselves. Facts are facts. Right? This, however, will help to save another; not that they care about others, not really, maybe, a bit? Undoubtedly though, Zim can help his Earth~hybrid; who will find the entire process fascinating. Plus, Zim remembers in learning about the Earthen’s and talking to Ma’tay, that Humans need to know all the reasons things happen. Zim does not understand this need to know things that are; outside a purely scientific curiosity, but if his Dib needs to understand; why the things happen to make his Dirt~child feel like they have control of the uncontrollable, Zim understands that.

That is, if his Stinky grieved Zim’s passing at all. Surely, someone... someone like his Dib might miss Zim, might continue to remember, to think of them, when Zim’s gone?

Computer, on the other hand, is getting a tad bit suspicious. It took them only an annoying two-and-a-half days before they commented on Zim’s pigmentation changes, which had ripened to a degree Zim has become a stark, vivid green.

Zim cannot fault his job for failing to outsmart Computer completely, when Zim is not technically doing everything they can do to hide these changes.

Computer and Zim both have read the once forbidden Irken scriptures of Primitive Irkens; back before The Empire’s downfall. Texts of an Irkens life before PAK’s, before the Control Brains stunted their biological growth; to further slow the age of Irken bodies. Not that it matters, as resilient as Irken are supposed to be now, most Irkens have died early, well before their primitive counterparts; due to constant war or murdered by lies and greed through the ego of their people and possibly... Zim themselves, might have had a hand in, say... a simple couple generations of Irken life gone….

If Zim was primitive; before a PAK, or around their 796 to a late 817 year of life. When Irkens can now; without those horrid controlling and lying things, naturally age. He’d display vivid pigmentations, as should be. Zim, however, is not any of those things. So Computer is correct: a case for interest, and of needlessness in Zim’s head of Computer’s concern.

Finishing up for the moment, Zim removes his stuffy gloves. PAK retracting the wielding device back inside; for safekeeping and carefully strokes and wipes his antennae to soothe. A slow rhythmic rumble starting up inside his chest.

Day by day, Zim grows hungrier; this is not natural for PAK Irkens. This increasing appetite is like playing the game of Raatta, back in his smeet days. Now it is of ‘what can Zim eat that is useless anyways, because it does not satisfy, and what will they eat and throw up that has never bothered Zim before?’ variety rather than ‘How many times can Zim do this thing that they should not before they get in trouble?’

The whole deal feels like being trapped and weighed, out of control. Chaining Zim to the past that once again is back to a point in their life that Zim thought was long ago buried; under all his walls of encrypted PAK memories and poor inferior organic meaty remembrances. And the patients, Zim has never really had before, now wanes like evaporating waters. It makes Zim a being who they did not like; because it reminds the Zim they are now, of a Zim in a time where they had been so very foolish, and alone… Controlled, as if an experiment in an enormous cage.

Too much, too fast and all at once.

Dib mumbles something, he is not even sure what he’s saying anymore. It’s all crashing around like waves roaring as they slam into the jagged rocks of his mind.

Than Computer’s there, monitor a little more than a breath away, and Dib finds himself propped up; sitting on the corner of this neatly made bed of their guest room. Wires all but gone. Now metal hands lay cool, against his hot shoulder’s, to hold him up and keep him together.

Dib hears what is said and what isn’t stated; why he’s not sure... and Dib doesn’t care. He thinks now that he’s gotten older and had time to settle into his skin. The worst thing about being the Professor’s son is not that he’s a clone or not all human. One is unimportant and the other a trait thankful for, but being intelligent with this mind that’s always racing with things; paranoia, truth, what lies beneath the good, bad and the ugly. He never misses any of it, even if he doesn’t want to see it, even if he blinds himself to what’s right there in front of him.

It has to be some kinda Irken curse. This is so fucking ridiculous.

Everything is slotting into place. Slapping Dib in the face. Piece by piece filling in a puzzle or a glamour being uncovered that Dib had no idea had been so much bigger than his own failed musing.

Zim’s blown outrage upon hearing of the new case. His Aliens demand for them - for Dib, to be as far from the case, as possible. His Irkens’ strange actions that were not just unIrken like, but unZim like; no matter who that Roach is or has been or whatever, at the moment.

Why couldn’t Zim just be honest?

Because the bastard’s afraid, with every reason, so far, to be, and fear is for Zim is another dirty weakness to one's unsatable pride.

At that time, Dib had figured Zim was overreacting. Being stubborn, stupid, and just Zim being Zim; an Irken, a germaphobe, and an asshole just trying to control everything around him.

Sometimes Zim got this way about him. Where he’d treat Dib like he’d fall apart just because the wind blew too hard. As if Dib couldn’t protect himself. Often than not it gets in the way of them and repeatedly dedicates how they do things and the numerous fights they get into.

Dib wasn’t ignoring the fact he wasn’t as tanked as Zim. He was more Human than Irken, even before realizing he was anything but Human. He caught colds even if it wasn’t as much as a normal Human, and he took longer to heal then Zim or his father. Drinking poisons could potentially kill him depending on what and how long it was allowed to stay in his system. As could being stabbed or shot and other various gruesome violence, and if he fell from a great height, he’d be turned into mush. The worst part nobody talks about, though, is that Dib won’t live the crazy length Irkens with PAKs will now that they are free. Even if his and Gaz lives and ageing are a hella lot slower and longer than a pure Human, by a thousand years.

He just wished Zim would see it his way, or maybe he needed to start seeing it Zims and his father’s way. Then again... Dib wasn’t the one stupidly infected with an alien virus, that was all his fault it had even become an issue for Zim, but then again, they wouldn’t have to be here at all if that Bastard had only been honest in the first place.

“Computer…”

Dib doesn’t know why he’s asking. He has his response, the only answer that in the end matters. He’s made his decision, but this is Zim’s life Dib’s screwing with, again. He’s already fucked up so badly. All Dib’s life people have been telling him; screaming at him - use your head, think before going on all gung ho into situations or before you speak! Half cocked with strains of information and his pride fueling the belief that only he knows what’s up.

Gaze drifting from a patient waiting and welcoming stare, down to Gir’s resting form. Computer had assured him they were only hibernating now that there was no danger.

Pride and a-know-it-all attitude are how they all ended up in this fucking shit, to begin with. How they always ended up in the worst places, hanging on by threads.

“What... what should I do? What would you do in my position?”

Computer who is quietly observing their Human smeet, waiting to see what new or old hole they crawl out of, is shocked.

It should not be such a surprise anymore. It seems the older the boys get, the more Dib; more so than Zim, have come to this thrilling juncture; where they have begun to ask for Computer’s opinion on things, before going on to do whatever they consider is best, anyhow. Whether they bother to do as requested or informed, does not matter. It is nice they now bother to ask and listen to Computer at all.

Computer would like to think it has nothing to do with that evaluation or Dib finding out who or what he is. The truth is after somebody like them reaches a point so low in their life they have to rely on another, it becomes a fixed point.

Three beings’ lives changed forever, and for good or not, it changes who you are and how you see yourself and others.

For Dib, this change made them care more. Not just about their selfish ideals, but for those who had always been there for good or perceived bad. Rather than focusing on those who were not. A bumping ride filled with a lot of rage at the world, mostly at their father, but enough that Dib reached a point he declared Earth wasn’t worth what he was stuck with. And a clinginess to their Master Zim, it and Gir that made them the centre of their Humans’ universe.

Their smeets change, all Zim’s confusing anger and self-destructiveness turned inward as depression rather than their typical reckless outward displays of self-assuredness. Computer had never seen, until that moment, an Irken drown in sorrow to the point it swallowed up everything they were. The once prideful and declared Almighty Zim had become nothing but a hollowing husk of emptiness. He stopped caring not only for everything around him but of his own needs.

And Computer has become a caregiver. Looked up to, in ways, it had never been designed for.

It’s remarkable, the way as Mi Nɛkt̪ɔ put it, what living things can surprise you when given free will. And Computer is not just astonished by the boy’s, but itself.

There had been a time in Computer’s life when he was just like Zim; a living, breathing Irken, who would do anything for their Empire and filled with such ugly pride. Unlike Zim, he was an Irken Commander who would have by all accounts scuffed and even killed his own had they even thought he would do anything for a weak and defective asset.

Back then, had what was happening with Zim now happened then, Computer would have either shot Zim themselves or ordered him into a cell to die alone; in agonizing pain, to set an example of him; to why Irkens were never to be less than their best, the perfect soldiers. There was no mercy for what was seen as weak. No friends or family, and even subordinates were a dime a dozen compared to The Empire objective.

Not even this betrayal by a fellow Taller and Tallest that left Computer failing his Existence Evaluation and becoming this organic matter floating within bubbling liquid... made them a better ‘person’, as it has done so for Zim. No Computer’s anger and bitterness, instead of being directed at those responsible, even at itself, dumped it all on the only other being around who could not have played a part in Computer’s suffering, Zim.

Disgusted to be led around, treated like an inferior like these creatures on this planet. Who had this short nothing think they were to boss a Taller Elite around?

Computer would have never seen a point in its life where it would think of Zim as its own. To it Zim was a burden on the collective, rather than of any use to The Empire.

And then their smeet had his Existence Evaluation, and for the first time, there’s a gaping open connection for Computer to something... Pity? Sympathy? It did not matter, because to Computer it was the moment where it saw Zim as a living, breathing creature in its life that had a place. A life that was not unlike its own then and now.

What the Empire, Control Brains and Tallest had reduced Zim to in their single-minded black box.

Never again would Computer be able to remain ignorant of its faults, to the lies they and itself tell every day to that point.

Somehow, Computer who had never been taught to build relationships, to trust, and love in any way outside the relationship it was demanded of them for its Tallest and Empire had become who they are now. Willing to do whatever to save its Master not as programmed or ordered to do so, but to rescue its smeet, by need and want. A Master, Computer has come to love, trust and cherish as something worthy in their life. And to achieve this goal with the help of anybody. Including what is supposed to be an inferior being; to be shot down by hate and violence. That instead has become as important to Computer as the little robot that rests between its Human child’s warm embrace.

Zim kept repeating to themselves that what Zim is doing out is for his foolish Hybrid. One more check on his Dib. One more positive assurance that thankfully, Humans, even ones with Irken DNA, were one of the rare species in the universe, immune to this infection.

Except, Zim KNOWS, that is not all true.

The first test had already come out negative, even though his had not.

This is pure selfishness that brought Zim away from the safety of his Home-base. They should be using this time, Zim is wasting, to continue preparation for his departure. But one outing, so long as Zim can hold themselves together won’t hurt, right?

One last taste of a life Zim does not know how they ended up with, before Zim falls apart.

It is now or never again.

Zim should have come so much earlier. What if’ - ‘ _NO Zim’s stupid, foolish Dib is fine! He would know it here_ ’ - Zim thought, barely touching his chest to hover over his core. ‘ _The gut feeling Dib~human is always speaking of_.’ Zim always knows when something is up with his Stinky and the fact Zim is continuously monitoring Dib, secretly. It goes horribly against their treaty, but Zim could not take chances with his mostly squishy meaty A’ne’meī. Surely, Dib would never figure it out; not with their parental unit’s help.

Landing on a building that is empty for the night, Zim climbs out. The soft whoosh of the shield coming down with a click of a button. Zim turns to stare, to be sure they remember where they parked the soon to be just Dib~creatures ship. Not that Zim could not see it; his magnificent opticals see the superior UV markings they have painted it with that Humans can not.

Zim is only stalling.

Doubt as to why or if they should have come; wavers the drive that has led Zim here. That always leads Zim back to this infuriating, entrancing and fascinating enigma not Human, not Irken, yet both and something entirely unknown.

Puffing out his chest and shaking away all but his mission. PAK legs emerge with a shink, picking them up and propelling Zim quickly away. Down the building; metal embedding within the concrete, before jumping several feet the rest of the way; sharp tips breaking chunks of asphalt-concrete in a cloud of gritty particles. PAK legs bending low on impact, before springing up and taking off across the barren park lot; lined by half-naked tree’s, hanging on for dear life before disease sweeps the uncared for remains of their life away.

Lowering behind poky dark green bushes, Zim hides... Watching the land ships zoom back and forth, taking the Humans to places unknown, but them.

Zim has never liked waiting, but there is one weakness they have been unable to figure out in the design of his cloaking device. Light, it shimmers the electromagnetic field like sticky-messy glitter.

Opticals close, Zim listens, building a detailed map, with the sounds, between his PAK brain and his organic; calculating the precise moment to venture out.

There…!

A flash of shimmer in a single headlight, too fast to be thought of as anything, but a trick of the trailing crimson lights of a large semi.

Across and safe,Zim disappears behind a tight line of empty compact cars of his Dib~creatures apartment lot.

Zim hides from the street and the windows; of all those who may be observing beyond their little temporary prisons.

Not yet ready, to make it up to Dibs place.

They need a moment to catch themselves. Excitement and trepidation thumbs through Zim’s core, as does the need to leave and return to the safety of Home-base. 

Zim will not run away, though. They will not add… more regret to their parting.

Hunched, folded in Zim, buries his head between his legs. PAK legs up, around and over to shield. Antennae out and listening to all the voices of the Humans still awake; walking, laughing, talking, crying, yelling and watching TV. Living their little Human lives as if there is no being from outer space moments away from them; like his Dib has been screaming at them, to see his whole life. A monster that could crash in through their fragile compact building walls to devour and rip them all apart. It would be so easy, Zim’s done it before. Killed them... Treated them like filth stuck to his claws and they could and would do it again. 

Humans lives are so meaningless to Zim, to the universe, even to his Human… but it seemed so was Zims.

Standing up, PAK legs hovering off the ground, Zim hurries through a lot of metal. Claws razor-sharp and getting longer day by day, tap and scrap against the asphalt. Scurrying up to tear away slivers of the large tree, before they cross several rickety, splintery grey and tan decks. Until Zim is crouching on the railing of his Dibs temporary living space.

The golden glow of Dib’s desk lamp and the blue-glaring light of his Laptop illuminates from within.

They greet Zim. Calling to him the same way the soft thumpy beats of his Human’s organic core; once a reminder, his enemy still lived. Now the sweet, mushy lulling melody of something profoundly alive; that belongs to Zim. A flowing life force, that as promised long before, would outlive the Alien Scum.

It all draws Zim closer and closer to the warmth of wistful luring. Zim aches not outside their mind, caught between the bone and meats of their fluttering core that knows the end comes soon.

Tonight will be a moment never forgotten, and yet never relived. Never again will they meet, not in the way Zim’s Dib~creature would have wanted… Zim is sure.

This moment is not for Dib, it is for Zim. Wrapped in a disgusting trap of syrupy closure; something no Irken should ever want, but Zim needs more than ever now. To continue on without-a-doubt; that those Zim has come to willing... devote themselves to, will be fine.

The bare claws of all four of his limbs cling and grip smooth and thick beams. Rocking side to side, where the quiet rumble of an aching chest would leave Zim too exposed to the truth. They wait. Claws out for the canister hidden within their PAK; a new design, Zim is quite proud of it.

Carefully listening. Zim clicks his tongue against his teeth; in the displeasure of a quiet buzz of voices and beats. They are always warning Dib~foolish that headphones would one day be the end of his Human.

Tossing the canister up; in play. Two fingers catch it, closing around its cool, smooth surface when it falls. The other tapping lightly on the releasing device in ponderment.

Dib has left his pitiful window cracked open. Not that Zim could get through that, even if they wanted.

When asked why the horrible design existed, his Dib~stinky stated it was so Humans could not jump out, which is still confusing and stupid to Zim. They stand by their bluntly stated comment as to why would one throw themselves out a tiny hole when you had a perfectly ugly deck with room to do so? Dib had been so sour with him.

Zim smiled, thinking of that day.

PAK legs clenching his Dib’s railing and gripping the building. Zim shakes the canister; listening to contents activate within. Slowly and quietly stretching off the deck’s safety, over empty air several stories; noting to be careful, not that the fall would kill Zim, or even hurt an Irken, but it would be a horrible inconvenience to them to do so.

A small mirror in hand, Zim angles it to peek inside; his heat vision has been wonky the last couple days and leaves them with pangs throbbing in his head. The last thing they needed, however, or wanted is to be caught by a conscious and non drugged Dib. The chances that his Human could see Zim with the cloaking, slim to none, nevertheless, they will take no chances to be proved wrong once again by his strange Hybrid capabilities.

Inside his Human lies seemingly defenceless, belly down and facing away from the desk and window. Lost within the bright screen of their gifted laptop; like the creepy Hybrid Dib has always been. It’s harder to tell details through a reflective surface, with even his superior opticals, but what his Dib seems to be looking over is a document for schooling.

Reaching back and dropping the unneeded object back in his PAK with one hand. Zim slowly slips the nozzle of the canister into a slit in the plastic weave, supposedly, to keep bugs out. The formula within it is Irken safe. Only affecting Humans, but to Dib, who is part of both... it will work as a moderate conscious sedation.

The can now emptied, Zim sits back on the balls of his feeties and rocks slightly, as they wait for it to take effect. Listening, as they discard the useless can back into their PAK; no evidence can be left behind to be discovered. Even if Dib’s ability to ignore the obvious is as gifted as Zim’s. His Human will never be the wiser. With thoughts that his Irken Bastard had travelled all the way here, not announce himself and then just left as if Zim had not existed at all. The old Zim would not have. This Zim, though, makes lots of sacrifices and does lots of even stranger things they would have never imagined they would do.

Waiting, Zim hates it, and after a while, they can feel the sluggishness of their own body; where Zim has never been sore or tired before. The chill of the night, not even as bad as it normally is, nips at his mostly covered skin and causes tiny trembles. Zim swears they can see puffy clouds of water vapour ice over, which cannot be possible this time of year.

Raising his upper lip in disgust, Zim wiggles his claws; the very idea of running around this filthy planet with bare anything revolts them, but Zim was alarmed to learn yesterday none of his carefully handmade Human/Irken boots and gloves fit.

Hearing the sound of Dib’s massive cranium slipping off the palm of his hand and onto the laptop; that now made a horrid noise at being forced to do whatever it was doing. Zim hopped back, light on his feeties, down onto the deck; the smooth scrap of wood beneath fleshy layers, is surprisingly soothing as Zim makes his way across to the sliding door; lips splitting into victory as Zim slowly cracks it open. All why hissing at the fact his stupid, moronic Human left it open for anything to just come trotting in.

Silently, slipping into the dark apartment, Zim shuts the sliding door with a click. Back against the cool glass. Waiting with bated breath, but nothing happened, of course, nothing did. No annoying but needed safety alarms and no voice calling out or gun shoved into their face.

Dibs door, why open, is empty.

Shaky breath, Zim moves freely across the tiny, bland apartment. Its ugly white walls, hidden behind Dib’s most impressive and beloved photography of mostly those horrible, annoying Cryptid creatures. Though - Zim feels themselves puff out in pride - many more of Zim. Some of Zim, even without his disguise. One such photo is of Zim that annoying ugly M slapped onto his forehead as they glared up at a grinning Dib who dared to mock the Almighty Zim, his arm thrown around Zim’s neck to hang as his stinky Human used Zim as a headrest, the gall!. Then there were the ones of Zim not even looking as they worked on something, played with Gir or were talking to somebody like Computer at Home-base… Zim does not know why they have allowed these to stay up. So exposed to the world… to who they are inside, passed all the lies and Irken masks. Then there are the ones of just Dib that somebody else has taken or of their squishy hybrid family members. Zim admits that the blurry undisguised Professor being attacked by Gir covered in a destroyed cake, as they all, including Computer, laugh… is liked most of all. It was taken on Zim’s last Earthen birthday, the last they will ever have. It makes Zim feel good, as if they are not so alone. Like Zim is significant and wanted, not just needed.

Turning away from the wall of photos. Zim glances over at the three seating black leather couch Gaz-sister bought; now placed on the tiny stained crimson living room carpet, in front of a flatscreen TV and game system, centred between the wall with the slider and the open kitchen; with grey blotch tiled kitchen with light tan cabinets painted with blue doors. Then back over to the black stick table, covered in papers, that Zim is surprised they have not yet broken in one of their many fights.

The smell of all the disgusting food, although less than what makes Zim happy to realize is stored away, is making them nauseous. Escaping a horrible fate, Zim peeks into the single small bedroom where Zim finds Dib; laying face down on his laptop. His greasy unwashed body is still wearing a three-day-old outfit, disgusting!

Antennae wiggling as they pull back at the scent; powerful, vile and yet something about their Human under all the nasty unwashed germs entrances Zim closer, but they do not dare get near, not yet... Zim only allows his antennae to pull forward, scenting the sudden sweetness flowing under Dib’s meaty layers, in curiosity...

“Zim?”

Jumping slightly, Zim knocks against the wooden door frame, gaze snapping over to the Human blinking groggily over at them. Zim had not noticed that wretched sound had stopped or heard the shift of blankets and clothing.

“W’haat?” Voice soft and slurred, laced with drowsy groggy confusion as Dib attempts to keep himself awake. “U’kay?”

Nothing, there is nothing to be said. Actions have always been most substantial for Zim.

Walking over claws catching grey shaggy carpet. Zim steals the laptop and shuts it, allowing a PAK leg to take it away to place it safely upon the desk, so that Zim may sit down before Dib, to observe the ONLY being that has ever….tamed the wild, or so the annoying TAK and Skoodge have laughed and stated...

Lip forming disgust at the idea, and yet not minding, because Zim has tamed the wild and dangerous Hybrid like the Snarl Beast of Humanity.

Brilliant gold, darkened and dulled by sleep. Pupils enlarged, by the drug soaking their crimson life fluids.

“A-are you… are U’her-?” Dib blinks rapidly, and slowly; with no meaning, as lids begin to droop.

Zim lets a rare and gentle smile slide across his face; a warmth nesting inside them, reminding them why they came despite... Before turning it into something creepy, and vicious to get under his Human’s skin.

Dib’s face scrunches up as he frowns. Muttering about stupid Lizards. And Zim gives a laugh that holds no enjoyment. Reaching out as they draw near. Claws and sore fleshy fingertips, brushing against fuzzy unshaved hairs pokey in annoying human scruff and oil-grimy covered flesh.

It is the only answer Zim is willing to give his curious and nosy Hybrid.

As expected, but always something shocking, even after all this time, to Zim. Dib does not flinch or lean away from his touch. Instead leans in with a sigh, that says too much and yet not enough for Zim.

Eye closing to hide away dilating pupils swallowing to replace gold for black.

“Come on, asss’hole.” A warm and rough hand; smaller than Zims, reaches for his own. “‘Want an explanation... now, Zim, W-”

With the soft press of lips of a Human kiss, Zim cuts the end of his Dib’s words. They do not know why; is it for Zim or for Dib. Is it done before it can no longer happen again, or is it only to derail a single-minded creature; of his unwanted demands and questions, that Zim cannot answer safely?

Before his Human can get ahead of their foggy meaty primitive brains, and demand more in their drugged state. Zim pulls away. Both claws taking and squishing cheeks between palms as Zim forces eyes unfocused, on them, to focus. They flutter, like the delicate wings of the Fae they once met. Something, deep within those pools, more beautiful than the stars have ever been for Zim, tells them, Dib, despite all his muddlement knows something is wrong.

Maybe there are brains in that massive head.

Lightly bumping foreheads and rocking. Zim remembers when they were hesitant to express such Ancient Irken Traditions of respect and complimentary affections, even to his Human. But upon hearing Computer’s quiet dismay of being unable to return Professor’s affections between life mates Human or otherwise. Zim thought, maybe, it would not be so bad. After all, Irkens expressed this respect once upon a time not just to those of the same tribe, but to ally tribes and even a chosen enemy. All which Dib has been, always to Zim, and more.

Yes, Zim’s A’ne’meī; a term-long forgotten by hate, control and the destroyed values of what it means to be a true Hive Mind, which had always meant those who rely on others to be better than their best. The closest thing in any Human language that Computer and Zim could find was the Latin word ‘Complēmentum; something that completes. Both holding the meaning that states something or someone who complements something else; it completes it, enhances it, or makes it perfect. It is nothing like that silly Human Soulmates thing that relies on another half to live wholly, at all. To an Irken, A’ne’meī, meant Zim is a better and stronger Irken FOR having Dib by his side, but still Zim is, his own being capable of doing things.

Drawn from his thoughts with the call of their name. The scent of anxiety attempts to fight against the soothing drug, that is there not just to make his Human sleepy and dreamy, but to relax. Make this wild creature happy, without the side effect of those nasty pills, Dib once took, before Zim found other much safer ways to help the hurting.

Pulling away Zim thumbs brushes across clearly neglected health, unwilling to let go. The edges of his mouth turned to show aversion and irritation. Dib~filthy smelled like something foul. Zim’s stinky, stinky, nasty dirty Human with the delicious smelling blood.

Zim stared, confused, at that stray thought, never before there…Before deciding it was not as important, as moving on to wondering with the hope, that Dib would get better at carrying for his delicate organic body. When Zim is gone.

Watching his Human trying hard not to fall asleep, fighting as a warrior always has to defeat the enemy, that gets in their way and attempts to bring them down.

Nibbling gently, in thought, on their bottom lip. Tongue drawing out to wipe away the warmth of something dripping down their chin, they ask themselves, pressing questions. ‘ _Who would take Zim’s place?…_ ’ The words make Zim sick.

A deep heated rumble ends in a hiss. Teeth bared, inches away, cause Dib’s eyes to widen; but still, this Human... Zim’s Hybrid shows no fear for a killer like them.

‘ _Who will yell at this rancid Human to go shower when week two has come and gone? Who will painstakingly make yucky Hybrid health foods, to shove down his Dibs throat, when this moron has not bothered to attend to his stomach in three days_?’

“Zim, wh-”

Claws slid down from squishy cheeks, over a long and lean muscle neck; the beat of life under the tips of Zim’s odd feeling pads…

Dib giggles. A stupid smile sliding lopsided across his tired features.

It soothes Zim’s dread and fury, of what is his, and what Zim will lose.

‘ _Of course… How silly, of Zim to question. Computer, who else, is as good as them in caring for those who care little for themselves_?’

The steady rhythm of Dibs heart, under the palm of their claws, is as alluring, as it settles Zim. The heat of a Hybrids flesh warms their seemingly too cold layers. Dib~beast here, now and for a very long time to come, is alive. Healthy as his Human has always been since their making, and will be for many, many more years after Zim is gone.

Breath hot, damp and sour blows across Zim’s antennae; deliberately, making them pull back in repulsion. Shaking Zim back to the reality of this moment as Dib asks, again, what’s wrong and still, Zim cannot answer. Left to look into unsteady and once aroused eyes, that are increasing instead in concern, and suspension, to Zim’s strange behaviour.

Pulling lips into a snarl at the smell of days of unwashed teeths and the unasked questions swirling around that big absurd head. Zim does not pull away, despite it, only continuing to say nothing and not even giving Dib a chance either, lifting his Human from his heavy lean against them and pushing; amusingly Dib sprawls back across the bed, in slow, awkward motion. Stuck there, like the green shell animal in his confusion.

His Human is disgustingly the most beautiful thing Zim has ever seen. They suppose when it comes to all other inferior creatures. Then again, they have never met an Irken Zim could wholly stand to look at either…

After a moment, Dib calmly relaxes back, into the bedspread. Arms coming up to cover his face as his head rests against the pillow. Laying there, so quietly and still. Zim if not as superior as they are, might have believed their Hybrid had fallen asleep on them before Dib is laughing.

Zim observes. Antennae raise both in the enjoyment of the sound and always alert, as to why Dib does anything. Not even the drug could make his Human laugh for no reason. It is all very suspicious.

And then eyes peek out from under the shadows of the forearms. A sly smile that does not speak of anything, but sadness to Zim.

“O-o’, I shee... dream, Zim… too b-ad.”

Silence follows for a long time after, for a while, Dib even falls asleep on Zim, but still they do nothing to arouse their tired Human. Before it is his Foolish~creature who awakens themselves, with a groan, to fix oddly angled legs, from under and beckons Zim to come close.

Hesitating, Zim finally crawls over; pressing into the welcoming warmth below, and does not hesitate to hover inches away, from watchful eyes, or to bother shoving away touchy dancing finger’s running across and over the top sides of his shirt and waist.

“I thought U’come... to fo‘give me.”

Eyes close and Zim wishes they open, again.

“... If ‘not real… is’ok to say sorry…” Eyes open to display what cannot be said. “Say, I’ezed up, Zim.”

Core sinking, Zim bites the inside of his cheek; drawing blood... sweet, satisfying painful punishment.

Dib sounds so open, so unquestionably apologetic.

A knot ties in Zim’s throat.

Before they can wave the Dib-beast away; call him silly for worrying, his Human continues.

“Guess its’better this way... Huh? ... cause.” Dib pauses, eyes narrow and tone taking on a darker forced suddenly clear-headed edge. “If I was not dreaming, I swear this shit was a goodbye, Fuckin’ Asshole.”

Last part spit like venom, but Zim knows this beast as they know themselves. Dib is spooked right now, and like Zim, his Human relies on the sweet strength of anger, to wash the weakness he feels, away.

Zim is scared too.

Zim is also sorry.

And most of all, Zim regrets now, as they have never regretted before, but they cannot find that anger or the falsehoods of superior walls Zim has always relied on, to bury and chain emotions now seeping through the chipped cracks, like toxic sludge.

The need to cry and just let go weighs heavily on Zim.

Leaning forward, antennae drooped back behind their head, Zim hides from his Human by shoving their head against his chest. Claws curled in desperation into a dirty shirt, trying to hold themselves together.

It’s been almost a decade in Earth rotations since Zim last cried, and even more since the first time; back in those times, there had been somebody there who cared for Zim, as well. But, they will not break this time… cannot afford to break. Breaking now means there is hope.

Computer is completely caught off guard, as a flood of new information and protocols, bombard it as the wall barring Computer from… Zim... comes down.

“ **一, Master Dib...** ”

Sniffling, it takes Dib a moment before the words spoken, catch up to his frazzled brain, and when it does, it feels like being slammed into a wall. Eyes widening, his gaze lands on the Irken who Dib has never seen, so shocked and distressed. Computer’s mouth opening and closing like a fish trying to breathe on land.

In all the year’s Dib’s known Computer, even counting the ones living under this roof. When they had every right to be, ‘a master’ according to Zim. Never once had Gir or Computer ever referred to him as such.

Voice breathy and small, “Computer?” Dib chokes on the last of their name.

‘ _This was not right. This could not be so_!’

“ **I-I** ” Computer’s voice shakes, “ **I do- do not...** ”

Dib didn’t even know Computer’s voice could sound that way. He’s never seen Computer so lost, but he’s seen that face on Zim. It has to be an Irken thing or being related to Zim. It is the kinda look, before his Alien spirals out of control, and does or says stupid crazy shit.

Computer hates being overwhelmed; in any way. It is not living anymore, right? It should not have to deal with such silly things as emotions and, and Master ... Zim knows better than, to overwhelm its Central Processing Unit, like this. Master… Zim told Computer he understood doing this strains its performance, when they had that discussion that almost -

“COMPUTER.”

“. **.. My data is telling me, my Master is Dibble Membrane.** ” Computer staps to attention, voice raising, with the unspoken command, the moment shattered with its name. “ **Zim... no longer registers as my Master.** ”

“WHAT!” 

Jumping up off the bed and getting up into Computer’s monitor, as if Dib too could read whatever Computer is. 

“Does-” 

He’s never felt so small. A new wave of anxiety and horror hits him, as Dib unconsciously wraps Gir into a crushing blow; if he’d been a real child.

“ **No!… Master, Zim.** ” Computer slowly says, “ **is still alive.** ”

When Zim had told Computer that it would be free to leave in a month with Gir… Honestly, it had not seen this coming. For its Master, Zim... to give away something that belongs to them, is so unheard of, so unZim like. Their Home-base is filled to the brim with broken and unused things discarded projects the Master is unwilling to part with, to throw, or even sell. So Computer could not ha- No, it should have predicted this! It is their job to know what its Master needs, before even its Master.

“Com-”

“ **It seems… Master, Zim… had a protocol installed that would come down, allowing freedom to contact the outside world, within a month’s time, but a fail-safe was just triggered, or somebody has overridden the previous command. -** ”

“Wh-”

“ **You are as bad as Master, Zim... Master Dib. Please allow me to finish.** ”

“Ah, my bad..?”

“ **Yes, you are.** ” Computer replies, trying to lighten the mood with an affectionate tone. “ **Now... I have only been allowed into the outer barriers, that monitor Master, Zim, at the moment. I still cannot contact and seek help, and there is still another firewall around my Master’s, self-made cage. Currently, Zim’s vitals are extremely low due to the effects of the virus, as well, as it seems, they have overridden the PAK’s safe-** ” Computer pauses a beat; to give Dib a look that says, if you interrupt me again, so help you, child. 

Dib finds himself, feeling sheepish, as his world begins to knit itself back together.

“ **-ty features when administering pain medication and sedation. For now Master, Zim is, in critical condition, but alive. If they continue this course of mistreatment, it will not be the virus that kills him. For now, however, Master Dib, it seems Zim’s actions either taken in a last-ditch effort to protect himself or..** ” Computer voice tails off, refusing to admit what has been on its mind, before continuing on.

Hearing that Zim is alive. That his selfish actions have backfired, instead, slowed the progression of the virus with a moment of reprieve from the stress of his PAK, trying to keep up with his organic body. 

Dibs legs like jelly as a rush of overwhelming relief, never experienced, washes over Dib, tears slipping down his face.

“I want to see Zim.” Shoulder squared Dib has a new mission. “Computer, take me to him,” tone now firm. “You can tell me whatever I need to know, on the way.”

He needed to work fast, had to break the security walls Zim had built to keep Computer from saving him. For fucking Uranus could Zim get any more fucking selfish and stupid and prideful and -

“NOW Computer, you have to do as I tell you.” Looking Computer straight. There wasn’t time to feel bad for this, “I’m, your Master now.” or muse over how cool that had been to say.

“ **Very well, but you should know I would have agreed readily without your tone or demands of me.** ” Computer’s Tone, a little hurt at the actions, “ **Fair warning, Master Dib.** ” takes on snarky displeasure. “ **I have no ability to get us into the actual testing lab.** ” And falters. “ **Where Master, Zim…** ” as it imagines that this is what must feel like to swallow razors. “ **\- wanted no help; he has made that extremely clear.** ”

“Yeah! Well... that idiotic Roach choose wrong!” Dib spits back, before frowning down at Gir.

He should leave them up here. Locked away in the room where Gir couldn’t be hurt, and it would get them out of their way, as horrible as that sounded. Gir, however, is fine as they can be, for now. The concern is for Zim, a living creature.

“- After all these years of a vague or any at all moral stance. Blowing up shit and others, snatching up Humans or animals to test on them, killing my bullies in cold blood… Zim doesn’t get to choose this moment to get a fucking conscious!” Dib sneered.

Computer would have to agree to that all, even if it is relatively hypocritical. Given Master Dib is no ‘saint’ in these departments, either. It just their Human has never been as loud or proud as Zim has always or had always been.

Bundling Gir up in a swaddle of pillows and blankets on the bed, he continued in a softer tone. 

“Zim may have given up, but I didn’t Computer, we haven’t and... I won’t, no matter what. Even if I have to do the unthinkable or the craziest most impossible feats to get him back. I will.” Turning to Computer watching and puffs out. “And nothing will stop me. Not you, not Zim, not our families or friends, not even the universe or a god.” Turning to glance down at his hands, curling them into fists. “Even if I have to destroy a whole universe, or break the laws of dimensions, or … become Zib -”

  
Dib awakened, to the ugly bright sun burning holes into his eyes, the sound of birds screaming into his ears, from outside his window, and the whoosh of traffic as the rest of Humanity went about their day.

Somewhere in the apartment above somebody stomped around, voices muffled from the neighbours next door too low for Dib to make out.

Honest to Pluto, his head is foggy like a night after drinking, he imagined, and no real sleep for weeks, which was not.

Rolling over Dib cursed the day and everything that made it that way.

The memory of dry, smooth lips pressed against his own cracked and sore ones has Dib sitting up. Eyes wide, and his whole world tilts off its axle, almost fainting. Forcing him to hunch over. Hands, clawing at his eyes, as his stomach is launched into his throat; the taste of acidic stomach fluids, and nothing else on the back of his tongue, but he refuses to throw up. Swallowing the vile shit, back down to where it had come from and where it should stay.

Fleeting memories, dance around in a haze like faries.

When Dib’s is sure, speaking a horrifying mess. Dib calls out for Zim, throat raw. The palms of his hands refusing to leave his eyes, in fear the light would burn them out.

The phantom pains of tingling throughout his body, especially in his limbs. The heavy sluggishness of sleep, too deep that it made it hard to lift his limbs. A bubbly feeling that made even a hazy image of a tense and questionable darker, and greying green face Zim - observing him quietly; saying nothing and yet screaming everything, seem funny…

At first, the mask was so good, so unreadable and then slowly it crumbled... Pieces from underneath peeking through; resentment, dread and desperation he’s never seen on Zim.

Those out of place dull and darkened blood-red eyes, that are not his Zim’s and yet are. Accompany a form wracked by uncontrolled shakes on the verge of crying, but won’t or can’t, that clings to Dib like a lifeline; those sharp inhales of breath too hot across his neck.

Something deep in Dib says that these hazy flashes of impressions, emotions and images, were not from just a bad dream. Except, his Zim… no any Zim, with his germaphobe and strict idolized dressing codes would never go out and about half-naked, outside the safety of their Home-base.

The very idea that this wasn’t just a dream, of what this could mean... twists Dib stomach into something ugly; like a hand cutting through his stomach and pulling out his insides.

It’s too terrifying a reality to grasp.

‘ _It’s all just a dream_.’ It HAD to be. ‘ _No, a nightmare produced by last week’s startling dust-up with that Alien_!’

Lip trembling, Dib slowly uncovers his eyes.

‘ _Right?..._

_Right!..._ ’

A quiet laugh, that's swallowed down.

‘Y _es, right! Dib?_ ’

Looking around, frantically for his phone.

‘ _Zim’s still mad at you for your stupidity, and when your stupid green drama queen calms down he’ll call you Dib like promised... And you either beat each other up or cuddle on the couch, why verbally beating each other up, yes, it will be great, it will -_ ’

Phone in hand -

“SHIT I’M LATE TO CLASS!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, for the Hits. And for all those who read it and follow, Kudo'd, Bookmarked, Subscribed and Commented! Bless!


	7. Taken Hostage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> \- 𝓘 𝓯𝓮𝓮𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝓫𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓱𝓻𝓸𝓾𝓰𝓱 𝓶𝔂 𝓿𝓮𝓲𝓷𝓼  
> 𝓘𝓽'𝓼 𝓭𝓻𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓮  
> 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓼 𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰  
> 𝓘'𝓶 𝓰𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓾𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻  
> 𝓜𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓯𝓵𝓪𝓼𝓱 𝓫𝓮𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓶𝔂 𝓮𝔂𝓮𝓼  
> 𝓘'𝓶 𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓲𝓶𝓮  
> 𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓼 𝓴𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓶𝓮, 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 ¸¸♫·¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬¸¸

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I like to thank, AGAIN, Tree's help on working Zim's symptoms.
> 
> Secondly, quick question, ‘What do you guy think, so far?’ <3
> 
> **Trigger’s or Squicks for this chapter are;** Mention of Character Death, Explicit Language, Suicidal Ideation, Vomit mentioned, Hallucinations, Major Characters with both Minor Injuries, Minor Self-harm, Character's Threatening Violence, Characters telling others to 'Kill Themselves', Dissociating Character’s, Guilt Tripped Character’s, Poor&Bad Self-esteem’s Expressed in Unhealthy Ways, Unhealthy Possession & Obsession of Characters, Symptoms of Virus Taking Effect similar to Various illness, Increase in Aggression and Paranoia.

On the way to the lab, neither find the strength to speak. Despite knowing Zim is alive, the air’s heavy with a tense finality, as if marching to a funeral.

Deeper and deeper down into the labs. Until they were in the bowels of Zim’s barely used section, not since his alien stopped hiding away from Dib and doing experiments on things.

At least, that’s what they were supposed to have reached a point between them in their life, but now, Dib didn’t know anymore.

They were supposed to have each other’s back. Trust, they swore trust and now... now that had shattered to nothing. How could Dib, trust Zim after, after this?

How had they reached a point in their future, that Zim would pull away when he needed Dib the most? What had they done to come to this crossroads?

No… how could Zim ever trust Dib? It was his fault Zim was here. It was Dib who failed his best friend. It was he who pulled away first. Left Zim alone, when his Alien needed him the most….

Computer is having more issues travelling from one section of Home-base to the next, than in all the years of dealing with Zim and Gir and even Dib’s catastrophes of wrecking it. It made it hard to keep an eye on and observe their almost comatose Human smeet.

“ **We are here, Master Dib.** ” Finally speaking, as it finds itself able to enter the lab, holding the Testing chambers, with almost all sensors working. Thankfully.

Tear’s spilling down, making streaks upon Dibs dirty unwashed cheeks. Computer, takes a moment to remove the glasses on the Master as he reaches up to rub furiously at his face.

Dib thanks Computer, taking his glasses back and stares up at the large, locked set of metal doors. Reading the Irken at the top, flashing in red; ‘Testing Chamber 2, in use.’

He mused a moment, as to why Zim would use testing chamber two and not one. Did that mean Zim is or had been conducting experiments again, without telling Dib? How many more lies would he uncover that Zim had been keeping from him?

A part of him is angry, part of that ugly Dib wanted to say Zim deserved this, but even that Dib couldn’t deny it’s just the hurt and his fears whispering ugly thoughts into his head. The sense of being alone, being left behind. Of being the Dib with nothing and nobody who respected him because he’d lost everything, given it all up for what? To be looked down on in a way that made him feel worthy of nothing. He didn’t want to be Zib. He wanted Zim, he needed Zim.

Staring at the corner of the room, unblinking, thinking, not thinking and seeing nothing and then all.

Zim feels like his heads began to fog, or maybe it is all in his mind, and Zim is just crazy like the Tallest said. Those vile, wicked fears playing tricks on Zim, how dare they! And yet, all the same, his mind is miraculously clear, in ways it had never been before.

Zim does not know anymore, it was all so much.

Arms wrapping around and knee’s drawing to his chest. Zim’s claws rack across the top layers to hurt, but not yet to draw blood; just enough to drive a sense of ecstasy, before shoving away and unbundling in self-disgust. Zim sits upright, feet on the floor to swivel the console’s chair and reach over to press a button.

“Zim, reporting in, week two, day -” They pause, something catching their attention on another view screen. Where they have been quietly monitoring his Human, before returning to what Zim was doing… Claws tap the button, lightly, to end. Lost once more in the image of his Dib; who again stares at his phone, not paying attention to his schooling notes.

Reaching over Zim presses a few buttons, and the screen zooms in to find his Human staring at a face of themselves, thumb hovered over the call button for ‘Alien Scum’.

Zim falters, emotions, silly, silly, unuseful feelings bubbling up and Zim types in a few buttons and the screen goes blank. Their distorted face all that is left to see, before looking away to continue.

“... Zim figures, it will not be much longer, before Zim is unable to make this daily auto recording of Black-blood’s progression within. When-”

Palms slam against the control and Zim wheel’s themselves over to another part of the console to type vigorously to a sudden stupid, wishful, idea. When done, they wheel back over to continue.

“Zim has come up with a brilliant plan. He has programmed the lab to record even after Zim can no longer do so. At least -”

Voice-breaking off, Zim lets their head fall to their chest and sucks in a deep breath; until his organic lungs cannot hold anymore, PAK whirring with extra stress and lightheadedness seeps darkness into the edges of his sight. Before Zim passes out, they let the whoosh of air out and take began to much needed shorter ins, and outs, at a pace that brings some measure of peace.

“Zim does not know why he bothers. This… there is … Zim has made his decision.” 

Claws curling into his palm, tips lightly poking at meaty layers. 

“If even by annoying inconsistent consistency, his Human stops sulking and feeling guilty sooner than Zim has predicted. Dib will be too late… even if he notes the progression slower than what Zim previously recorded in victims.”

Although… Zim now that they were regularly keeping up with the changes of his body, there had not been itchiness typically associated with the start of the infection. Then again, his mind had not been on at the moment that symptom would have presented. And being Irken his wounds healed too fast already, to notice those abnormalities other inferior species associated with this curse.

Then again, Zim’s other bodily functions of being a still partly organic being had begun to darken already, which is quite disturbing. However, as days wore on and Zim saw to his fooding and drinking needs less and less, so did some of those functions become less of a problem and more a fading bad memory. But, Zim could not ignore the skin darkening had increased, and the vividness of green decrease; top meaty layers taking on an ashy grey like the corpses of Irkens burned into his mind. 

Zim is dying, it can be felt in every fibre of his instinctual being.

“Zim’s fate was sealed the moment Zim decided to follow his Human into those cursed woods.”

Collecting himself emotionally and reading himself for the correct headspace; to outsmart Zim in whatever evil smarts he’s conducted to keep them out. Dib cracks his neck, stretching; hands raised above his head, as he twists and turns to pop his back, and puts on his hunter’s face.

“Ok Computer, are you ready? We’re going to team up again to put Zim back in his place. So he can get back to being the Foul Scum of my Earth.”

Computer waiting nearby pops Dib’s tablet lost and forgotten upstairs, into its Human Master’s stretched hand. “ **I am most pleased, to once again be working with you, Master Dib**.”

Grinning, Dib thought that he could get used to that title; so long as it was alongside Zim.

Beckoning Computer closer, Dib leans in. “Ok, so here’s what I’m thinking -” going on to whisper his plan on how to get around Zim’s security, into Computer’s mic. You never know who might be listening in, before stepping away and scratching at his chin. “The issue is... there’s no console outside the lab allowing us entrance, normally -.”

“I **t would be my job, had it been intended to be locked. -** ” Computer interpreted, then paused as an idea came to mind. “ **Perhaps...** ” A few tweaks... and it is happy to discover its scanner is still available. Although a lot of their non-rudimentary programming is still offline. “ **There is a panel hidden on the right side of the doors….** ” Monitor wire going over to press upon the slab of metal.

Heading over, Dib inspects the hidden lines, as Computer continues.

“ **It is only accessible, if Master Dib prys the panel off. For now, it seems, I am unable to be of much assistance down here within the labs, with more restrictions on what I am allowed and not allowed to access… However..** ”

Stepping back, when a screwdriver is placed before his face. Dib glances over with a curious look.

“It seems so...”

“A **nti-climatic or Human**?” Computer offered, “ **Yes, but using anything else could accidentally damage something needed to enter the room. With yours and Zim’s luck, we must not take any chances**.”

“Touché” Dib had to admit, he hadn’t thought of that, even if that comment poked the wrong oozing places. “Thanks.”

Thankfully, the panel is simple to pop off, as soon as Dib finds the correct spot to jam the head of the flathead into. Quickly tossing the cover, and taking back the tablet Computer had been holding.

“I don’t remember this panel.”

Computer who’s been watching Master Dib, taking the cord hidden in the back of his handmade tablet speaks. “ **It was not in the original base plans, it is a new addition, possibly another fail-safe or simply a way to enter the room for Master, Zim**.”

“It might seem stupid. If Zim locked you and Gir out down here. There is no reason for the panel to let that Roach in and out. When he had nobody to wo- Ok, I’m hooked up. I should hav-WHAT TH-!”

“ **MAS** -”

“ **-TER**!”

Zim slams back into reality. Body jerking away from the momentarily perceived threat, wide opticals and a nervous confusion flickers within. Not only at the sight of Computer hanging around line of sight; just out of the reach of PAK legs and organic limbs, but because Zim does not remember what they had been doing or how Zim even got up here from the labs.

A snappish snarl of “WhAT!?” follows the momentary lapse of confusion. Optics narrowing to glare metaphorical holes at the pixels, making up the other Irken staring at Zim, from within its caged creation. “How DARE you disturb the ALMIGHTY ZIM’s thoughts!”

The look Computer gives Zim…. Antennae perked in alert, before one moved back to hang idle to the side, the other slinking back, tells Zim they are unbelieved, questioned, read through like fogged glass, and Zim does not like that.

“EH! HOW DARE YOUR CALL ZIM A LIAR!”

Computer scuffs in evident annoyance, but they do not fight back or deny that accusation. Instead, their expression changes, just enough that Zim can read the underlining and hidden concern; that's been gaining strength since the day they returned.

Zim hates it! Why must Computer be this way? Why could The Empire not have given Zim a proper AI or Irken, that would not care whether their Master lived or died, so long as whatever mission Zim required of it succeeded? It messed everything up, made this so much harder for Zim.!

“YOUS TALKING TO YOU’SELF MASTA!”

A downward spiral, shattered, with Gir’s loud screeching voice, from the kitchen. Breaking the hostile glare of Zim and Computer’s parental, quiet, torturing stare, that demands all answers or in Zim’s case sacrifices.

They can almost let go of the itching starting to seep into the cracks; that is paranoia, to focus on this perplexing statement.

“Zim always talks to themselves?”

Although, Zim once again, has no memory of this speaking. The last thing Zim remembered was -

“CRRAAZZY, MASTA IS -"

“ **Gir, I think your cookies are burning**.”

“NOOOOOOOO MY COOKIES!”

Antennae leaning partly back, one more so than the other. Zim gives Computer a look.

“ **Do not...** ” Computer warns.

Smirking, teeth peeking between lips, it grows to a grin, in Zim’s knowing that nothing was, in fact, burning.

“ **What Gir was trying to say… Master Zim..** ”

Zim has never known Computer to hold back on anything. They are Irken and keeper of Zim, Gir and sometimes their Human Dib. Hesitance in this household gets you nowhere, but stepped on, but here it is, where it does not belong.

“ **.. We do not understand…** ”

Zim stomach sinks and flashing their teeth, this time in hostility; where they hear lies.

“ **Very well, I do not understand why you have locked me out of the observation test room. I co-** ”

A deep growling rumble within their chest is answer enough, but Zim snaps, taking a step forward to intimate. “YOU COULD DO NO SUCH THING! STAY OUT OF ZIMS BUSINESS! STUPID NOISY CIRCUITS!”

No, no, no. That is wrong! This uncontrollable aggression that bursts within like a volcanic explosion, is not right. Zim knows his anger, and this is not Zim’s anger.

As if Computer can not see their turmoil, Zim turns away, acting as if they are going to head to the kitchen, so Zim can find a single ounce of calm.

The uncomfortable silence, that follows this act, whispers into Zim, but as they reach the kitchen, it’s like Zim can breathe without tearing Computer’s wires out.

“It does not answer Zim’s question, either.”

“ **... That is correct, SIR**.”

Zim flinches at the Irken insult, as they watch Gir’s little face glued to the oven window. Computer only uses the term negatively towards other Irkens, as their uncivilized Dib’s not offended and finds it to be instead complementary when referred to as a SIR. So it is ordinarily Zim who finds themselves insulted, when Computer’s hurt by something done or said.

“ **… However, what I am and Gir is worried about is the fact Master, when you came upstairs, you were acting abnormally, even for you. You did not respond when I spoke to you. The Master did not even seem to be aware of where he was or that either Gir or I were present with him. You were pulling at the Human’s ta-** ”

Zim, glancing down finds that they are wearing one of his Dib’s stolen ‘wife beaters’; they still do not understand the reason a Human would name a piece of cloth this, seeing how this would not be a suitable object to beat anybody with. But what worries Zim now is they do not remember changing out of their previous outfit to this one. It is fresh, or as fresh as one can get wearing a dirty unwashed Human shirt covered in musky sweats and Zim is sure that is the sweet scent of -

“ **-ir had been playing with temperature garages, which was the first time you mentioned Gir, Master, I can assure you they have not done what you are accusing them of. Nobody has touched the temperature of this base since your return. When you requested that I-** ”

“Yes, Yes.” Zim waved Computer away. Unwilling to hear anymore and wish to get as far from whatever just happened as possible. “Zim was only testing, to assure his minions are keeping up to date on the ongoings of the base. Very good, you pass!” Stepping into the kitchen to unglue his Gir from the oven, to commence movie time. “Now turn the temperature up, it is too cold on this filthy Dirtball, for Zim’s lovely physique!”

Gir’s giggles as Zim snatches them up, almost covering Computer’s snark about making up one’s mind; **are you too hot or too cold, Master**?

Dib’s world blanks out a second, before he comes to, again. This time he’s no longer deep in Zim’s labs. He’s not even on Earth, virtually or mentally, anymore. 

Dib knows this place though, not personally, not yet.

His Alien keeps promising him they will go, but Zim never delivers. So what Dib knows is all from his research of Zim’s files and from speaking to Zim, Computer, and various other new friends who have been there.

“Irk… What?” Dib whispers, gaze jerking around. “Zim?” Surprised by how high his voice sounds as if he’s breathed in helium.

The place is more impressive than the photos he’s seen. Almost as captivating as how Zim and Computer described it.

Void black, shiny and deep matte dark purple buildings taller than anything found on Earth; stretch into the far reaches of Irk’s reddish-pink atmosphere.

Neon lights from windows, signs, ships, Irken’s screens in brilliant pinks, golden whites, purples, greens, yellows and reds are everywhere. 

Dib’s never seen so many windows and glass There must be billions and billions of rooms. Pluto- just imagine the amount of cleaning they must take to upkeep.

The whole place passed all those unnatural lights, is illuminated in a haze of pink gassiest mist.

A grittiness in the air, like tiny particles of rocks; Dib’s sure now, is not good for his Human lungs, if this had been real. (Zim and Computer mentioned that being a problem.) 

Though the experience appears lifelike to him, tickling against his skin and in his lungs, both experiencing this wet and dry uncomfortable burning sensation.

There’s also a taste, he can’t describe.

It’s hot, so hot it’s like he’s sitting under the scorching summer sun and he’s been here a minute most and already sweating.

An equally uncomfortable hot and humid breeze sweeps across, caused by several low flying ships like Tak’s shooting by.

“You know my Human.” The voice is so familiar, Dib could recognize it even out of his mind. “if you stick around here any longer, with even your less than inferior biology, you will suffer even worse...”

Dib swivels around and wobbles. The world tilts, and it’s like his heads floating away as nausea slams into him. “S’im”? Hand’s coming up to cover his face. Hoping to make the sensation of falling and being crushed all at once, go away.

The pressure of Irk is intense for somebody who has only lived on Earth. No wonder Zim was short. He’s been standing here for a few moments, and it is like being crushed from every side.

“You might.. just die.” The voice continues on, it’s mellowness taking on a more sinister amused and sadistic tone.

Dib swallows the sudden fear down. “Ha, this isn’t real. This is just some dumb simulation you made.” Dib stabs back, peeking through his fingers to look … eye to eye ‘What?’ with Zim standing there, in a uniform Dib’s never seen his Irken in.

Zim smiles, his zipper teeth taking up the space of his mouth. It’s cruel and cold. Dib’s only seen it like this a few times, in the past few years. More so when Zim first came to Earth and even so… this smile seemed off.

This Zim is WRONG.

“Who are you?” Dib asks, eyes narrowing. 

Paranoia eating its way through him the longer he’s exposed to this, to this imposter…

The Irken that looks like Zim laughs, even that’s off. It’s hands hidden, except for their fingers, by giant red and silver gauntlets, as they lift them in familiar expression. “Why Dibby, sweetie… It’s your favourite Almighty Irken Zim.”

Dib gags, face twisting with disgust. “Hell no, you’re not. Zim would never in a million years call me that shit, or does he speak like that. You’re some kinda security program he set up.”

Imposter laughing again, hands coming together to clap. It’s so condescending, even Zim has never managed this level of apathetic snark. “It has brains. How funny, to think a defective and homely thing could process information on, any level of intelligence.”

“Why am I here, bot?” Dib growls out, mortified at how high his voice is.

The Irken comes closer, and Dib steps back.

It just manages to seem hurt, by his actions, but Dib doesn’t believe for a second, it gives two shits. There’s no way it feels; not like Computer, not like Gir.

“Scared, Dibby?” It tilts its head.

Dib frowns, at the fact he thinks it almost looks cute...so fucking gross.

Ears are starting to feel stuffy and waterlogged.

“Yeah, right…”

As if he’s going to admit he’s more than a little intimated. Dib doesn’t think Zim would create a security system that hurt him; too severely, not now, at least, but who is to know what this thing has tampered with on its own. After all, they aren’t the best people in creating things that work the way it should.

The Irken’s PAK pulls out a device from within its depths. It reminds Dib of an oxygen mask and holds it out.

Dib almost wants to give in to what's to come. Breath coming now in heavier pants, as he tries to suck in air, and yet can’t quite get what he needs.

“The Human should use it, before it passes out or cooks from the inside out. That would not be any good for me, if this ended, so promptly.” They smile.

Dib backs away again, taken back by how WRONG it is.

Twirling, the thing on their fingers. “Znd may disagree with Master Zims rules, but, even he must abide by them. It is in my exceptional programming, after all.”

Dib laughs, an ugly grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, big fat chance, I’ll trust anything that comes out of your imposter's mouth. Zim’s creation or not, you’re an unfeeling, little bitch, who wouldn’t think twice about stabbing me in the back. We both know how things like blowing up in his face.”

“You ARE highly paranoid.” It sighs, looking a bit dejected and even annoyed. “Well, suit yourself, Dibby. Guess we will not be able to play as long as hoped, after all. Znd must say, the hybrid is lucky to have Irken in it, or your puny Human genes would not have lasted this long. Impressive, I suppose.”

Dib snorts, laughter bubbling between pain. “Of course, it’s impressive.” He snarks. “When Zim reasonable set this up to assure that I am not hurt.”

They laugh, dancing in place; it's metal suit clanking and freehand waving at Dib, as it gives a little bow. “Znd overruled those safety precautions a long time ago. This virtual world, Master Zim was creating as a gift to their Human, is as real, as if we stood on Irk itself.”

Dib swallows down the burning air. Eyes widening, fuck he knows it. “Shit.”

“Is the hybrid sure he still wants to deny Znd their one-time freebie, of a gracious gesture?”

“Hella yea, even more so now.” Dib sneers. “Now how do I get your ugly mug out of my sight, so I can hack into the system.”

“Oh!”

Dib frowns, at how excited the Irken gets. It’s opticals’ lightening up like a cat permitted to play with the mouse.

“You run Dibble Membrane and hope to outlive Znd’s countdown, before the planet, or he kills you. 10 -”

“Shit.” And Dib takes off, waiting for no other incentive, to get the hell out of dodge.

A cackle of pure crazy laughter follows, before that too is swallowed up in the sounds of Irk.

It is the middle of week two, and Zim is experiencing the walls closing in on him.

Zim is not sure if it is another part of these symptoms meant to experience. 

According to the notes cataloguing their dying specimens and the victims themselves, they experienced such an atmosphere, but more so, like animals locked in cages pacing back and forth trying to get out. 

They do not feel like an animal locked in a cage. To Zim, it is like his labs have shrunk in size, and the hallways are hardly big enough to walk through. As if the walls surrounding Zim will crush them, at any moment.

But all attempts to go upstairs, for air, is even worse. Unable to bring themselves to leave the safety of the Home-base with his growing list of concerns and this anger...

Never in all Zims life has this suffocating violence affected them. It is as if Zim lives and breathes anger now. Even as Empire Irken, Zim never felt that way. Yet, it is not like Zim is feeling these things. It is like walking outside his own body and this disconnected stitching, back and forth, only grows more so as days become night and stretch on into more days.

Snapping at Gir. Snapping at Computer. Zim even snaps at himself, at the walls, at his work, at the very fucking air temperature of the room. 

To hurt, to defend it does not matter, the reasons of emotions behind it.

Zim is out of control in ways they have never not had command over. It is like little by little Zim has stopped being the one calling the shots, and gradually something else slips in from the shadows, it hooks invisible strings to Zim. Until they can no longer breathe without the say of this infection.

Turn after turn, the place all starts looking the same. Buildings, walls, crowds, ships, signs, Irkens, tubes, wires, lights, the ground… All the fucking same. How the hell didn’t these stupid fucking Roaches get lost?

Dib ducks into several crowds, down some alleys, and now he’s so turned around he swears he’s seen the same shop five times already.

Worse of all, Dib has NO idea where that fucking security system bot is. He’d stopped hearing that annoying countdown after 7.

No, the worst thing about this, is having nothing on him, of any use in protecting himself. 

Saturn, even his body, can feel the debilitating effects of breathing in this higher, denser, gaseous air, like breathing fire in. Head airy light as edges blacken. So close to losing more of his stomach acids. If he didn’t pass out before that.

Fuck.

‘ _Think Dribble THINK!..._

_Zim programmed this place, why? Because he’s a fucking dick. Ok, yes, but there’s more to that… You know Zim better than you know yourself, Dibble Membrane. Think of everything he’s ever done, everything he’s ever said…_ ’

> “Created as a GIFT to their Human.”
> 
> “Znd may disagree with Master Zims RULES, but, even Znd MUST ABIDE by them. It is in my exceptional PROGRAMMING, after all.”
> 
> “- PROCESS INFORMATION on THIS LEVEL of intelligence.”
> 
> “That WOULD NOT be any GOOD for ME if this ENDED, so PROMPTLY.”
> 
> “Guess we will not be able to PLAY as long as hoped, after all.”
> 
> “YOU are so PARANOID.”

Dib skidded to a halt, catching himself on a pole to stop and suck in lungfuls that might or might not be killing him faster.

Fuck, he’d played right into Zim’s game.

Enough of his breath caught, Dib laughs and snorts, before choking in surprise when some random Irken glared over at him. Stopping Dib cold as they tell him to shut up, in Irken.

Ok, that is a little alarming. None of the other Irkens, until that moment, had paid Dib, any mind. It’s like he hadn’t existed to them, as if they were a fancy static of background props.

“Uh, sorry.” He whispers, throat parched and raw.

Watching the Irken disappear into the crowd. Dib scratches at himself. He feels like he’s taken a dip into a pool; sticky and gross. Beads of sweat rolling down his spine, face and the back of his neck. Not to mention his groin area where his boxers have ridden up from running.

To be sure they stopped paying him mind, Dib glances around, shuffling back into the dark bowels of a random ally and shoves his hands down his pants to fix them.

‘Ugh!’

Dib grimaces as he unsticks his sweat-drenched boxers; bundled up into the creases of his thighs, fixing them, as best as he can, before glancing around when finished, and sniffs them; jumping out of his skin as a loud alarm rings.

Back to the wall, hands on his chest and heart-pounding under them. Dib watches all the Irken’s rush around in various directions. Before the place seems to lose all active life as everybody disappears from sight, even the ships above have stopped zooming by, like a giant grand freeway.

“Ok,” Dib says aloud to nobody, stepping out into the empty blacktopped street and glanced down from one end to the next.

He had no idea what that was about. But, cupping his hand to his mouth, he sucked in a large quantity of air. “HEY! COME GET ME!”

Suddenly tired, Dib wobbles, before legs give out and he crashes to his knees. Edges blackening to the point of passing out; Dib falls forward, catching himself by the palms of his hands, last moment. Ground rough and hot, like a pavement that’s been backing in the baking sun all day.

Quickly sitting up, Dib inspects reddening palms with a hiss.

“You wrang, Human?”

Forcing himself not to move too fast, in fright, to turn to the voice. Dib instead, deliberately on unsteady legs stands back up and faces his, both welcomed and unwelcome company.

“I did.”

‘Znd’ didn’t look hostile for something that told Dib to run, or it would kill him. So, he has to be going in the right direction. ‘Damn you, Zim.’

Arms folded, leaned up against a wall, the imposter, is still holding the mask. A leg kicked out as they stared there, waiting for him to decide.

“I almost,” Dib spoke and stopped. “I almost played right into his stupid-” He lets his voice drift to nothing, not even bothering to continue. The other already knew what he had been getting at.

Of course, the Irken said nothing. Only continued to watch. So, it must mean that only Dib could make this decision. The problem is, what if he was wrong? Is he willing to take that chance, when it puts Zim at even more risk? He’d already fucked up once. What if, what if he finished, what his Alien started? What if Dib did what Zim couldn’t?

“I-” Why was this so hard? It should be so easy, and yet it is like he’s being forced to swallow glass. “I… just give me that stupid ass mask, you shitty bot.”

Looking as if it had all day. Lip’s perk up at the edges in an egotistical and annoying knowing smirk, before it tosses the mask, making Dib stumble around to catch it.

Once in his hands, Dib looks over it. It appeared mundane. So very innocent, and yet every fibre of his being, except that little voice, is telling Dib he is making a mistake. Not to trust this imposter Irken who pretended to be his space boi.

One glance at Znd, Dib shoves the mask on, as quickly as he can, before he changes his mind. At first, holding his breath, until his lungs burned something fierce, and he began coughing and sucking in air. Nothing happened, well nothing sinister, just the sweet, sweet soothing mist of oxygen and something else that made his insides tingle, but in pleasing ways.

“And here,” The Irken steps away from the wall. A pleased expression, as it moved their arms and hands. “Master Zim had been so convinced, you would never trust me enough, not to fail. That you rather die, convinced of your rightness. And I would have been glad to allow that pig-headed, Human, nature of yours, to be both your undoing.”

Dib sucks in deep breaths and then more steady ins and outs, listening, before chuckling at the end of the brief speech. 

Pulling the gasmask up, to let it sit on his head; in brief, realization noted the mask hadn’t interfered with his glasses at all.

“You’re both, so full of shit.”

The Irken hummed smoothly.

“I know Zim thought that, and it certainly grates on my nerves.” It stung more than anything, because - “He’s right. I would have. But, as cold and devoid of apathy as you seem. I think Zim couldn’t help, but to create you based on his current feelings.”

“Oh? How so?”

‘Zim… I know you don’t want to die.’ - “You didn’t want to chase or kill me, not really,” Dib spoke, feeling proud of himself.

The Irken smiled something cruel, as it held out his hand. A pole, taller than them, manifesting with a wicked-looking two-bladed end. One longer than the other, like one of those bottle openers. Except, it sparked, zapped and popped with electricity.

“Are you so sure, of yourself, Dibble Membrane?”

Dib hesitates for a moment, losing just an inch of his self assured air. Another deep breath of soothing air taken, before squaring up his shoulders. “I am.”

Znd crackled.

“Yeah, yeah, evil you. Can we get on with this?” Dib bit out, irritated, and maybe, a little aroused. “I have to save Zim from his stupid decisions.”

“Very well Dibby, if you wish to do that..” They paused, for dramatics, Dib was sure. Mars, he hated Zim. “Kill yourself, a life for a life, is that not a Human saying?”

“The fuck.” Dib spit out.

“Ah, can my Human not do that?” It teased, trading off the pole to the other hand. “But, of course, your life matters more, than his, right?”

Before Dib could snap in anger. That same high pitched alarm sounds. He cringes, watching the other glitch in and out, openly annoyed, as it looked off somewhere.

‘Interesting.’ Dib mused, but went back to what was essential.

“I never said my life mattered more. I just don’t see how killing myself would help Zim at all. If I did that, it would only make it certain that he’d get no help.”

“Perhaps so.” Znd now stable, turned back to him. “Then again, maybe not.”

“And if the goal was for me to die too,” Dib makes air quotes “save Zim.” Frowning as he thought this through. Mind racing. “Then letting my time run out the first time wouldn’t have mattered to you. So chasing me would have helped you more, than me ending it quicker, by killing myself.” Dib was on a roll. “As it would take longer for the effects of the planet to kill me off. In the end, the longer I’m here, the less time I have to help Zim. That is what Zim wants and what I don’t. You were sure to use certain words, in just the right way, and you said it wouldn’t be any good for YOU to end it swiftly.”

Dib paused, for more clean air. Before he stared down the security Irken, who was looking more and more impressed, under its air of nonchalance and annoyance.

“No, I won’t kill myself, even if by chance it didn’t lock me out, forever or worse, kill me in reality, because of you. I knew as much of a bastard as Zim is. How much he pretends to be uncaring, cruel, and like he could end me the moment he grows bored with his possessions. I also know Zim only wants what’s best for me, even if I don’t think it’s best for me. Or he’s being stupid and not thinking shit through. I just never bother to listen, or I pretend I can’t see how soft he’s grown over the years.”

“Is that your conclusive answer, Dib?”

“Yes. I’d like to add the only fucking shit in this entire universe allowed to END Zim is me. The only protection he needed and still needs is me. So be so fucking kind and get the fuck out of my way or I’ll go through you and anything else to get to him.”

Znd chuckles. “How cute.” Pole disappearing. “Very well, I’ll give you full access to my Master’s crypt, Dibble Membrane.” As they faded, they continued to speak. “I hope that in the future you will have learned to trust Zim a little more, even when he won’t tell you the game he plays.” Before the Irken is gone, Znd had one last thing to say. “Because Zim trusts you, without hesitance, no matter what...”

Who is it?

“WHO DARES TO SNEAK UP ON ZIM!?” Voice pitched high... it reeks of fear.

Antennae flickering over in the direction Zim heard strange sounds, there is nothing there now.

Turning from what Zim has been working on, to scent the enclosed room. They find again, no strange smells and nothing creeping in the shadows, because there are no more shadows.

After yesterday’s scare of split moment horror, where Zim swears, there in the corner of the shadows, stood the living form of Commander Poki of a Lab Zim walked by. They added lights to every corner, to be sure nobody, could get the jump on them and then for extra measure, added them under every table. At least, in the rooms, they travelled in. Sealing shut every lab, not of use.

That had not been the last time either of these figures, not possibly there, haunted Zim. 

The next time Zim was in the kitchen, trying to find something, anything, that scented and tasted edible; to be left discouraged and upset, as all the times before. When out of the corner of Zim’s optical line of sight, was Almighty Tallest Miyuki. Zim saw her in all her vivid colouring and menacing detail, passing by the kitchen frame, on her way towards the front door.

No, no spirit Irkens haunting Zim in his house. Just the ghosts of a faulty connection between organic brains and PAK brain, that is what Ma’tay-doc called the emotions, Zim experienced in his momentary terrors when encountered previously.

That time, however, Zim had not stood frozen, shaking, in terror, unable to look - because Irkens had no souls, right? Zim rushed out after her, demanding to know why she would come now. Had Zim not been through enough punishment for the crime of her death and more?

Only to have Computer pop down, in his line of sight, confused as to why Zim shouts at and calls out to things not there. 

But, ZIM knows, ZIM saw her, so video evidence was demanded of the area, where she dared to enter Zim’s territory. Only to realize there’d been none-one there; no Gir, no Computer, and no spirits of Almighty Tallests… Just the crazy rambling Zim.

After that, motion detectors and lights that turned on when motion sensors go off were added. Zim made sure they covered every square inch of every room accessible. It worked too when Zim thought they saw things, that were not actually there.

So, it was all in his head... Right? WRONG. 

Video evidence, gadgets and what now, that are supposed to disprove Zim’s imagination began to show the spooks, and the flickers of their bodies walked by setting off motion detection.

Since then, Zim cannot find himself to leave this room for much, and when they do, it is quickly with eyes closed as Zim makes his way upstairs. There they can be with two others who tell Zim nothing is there when clearly Zim sees what should not be.

Now, there is something here. Zim has never heard the sound before, that they remember. Something soft, bubbly, almost like little laughter. Zim wants to say of a smeet or possibly a Kildf. That cannot be, Zim has never had smeets in this Home-base and all the Kidfs have long ago left the labs. It seems so familiar, though, Zim can not place it... however, it leaves them, as if a hole has opened up and swallowed them in grief of something lost before it was gained.

Computer is in panic, by the time Dib slides off Zim’s overhauled VR Cosmos Elite, from his person.

It’s been pure agony, having to be idle, sensing their smeets body going through various strains that could be life-threatening. Worried, attempting to rip off the headset attached to Master Dib’s brain would short circuit it, or worse, cause amnesia.

The only thing, Computer could do was attempt hacking, but even then it held back.

“ **Master Dib, what are Irk**!?”

Blinking, Dib held the VR, dropping it to his side and taking in being back on the real plane. Earth has never felt, so amazing, until your held captive on a virtual planet that is trying to kill you, even slowly.

Face broking out into a triumph smile.

“I did it, Computer! I’m in, I passed, I won!”

Dib is back home, in Home-base with Computer and his real Zim, just behind these doors.

Computer did not understand what Master Dib won or how. However, so long as he was safe and happy, it would not ask more questions of the past. 

“ **Does that mean we are free to continue from here**?”

Nodding, the reality of what he’d gotten them into, of Gir’s condition known and Zim’s unidentified one. Of what Zim did, chosen without Dibs knowing. That sickening horror returned all over.

He’s so tired, so strung between his doing and the stress of this whole thing.

Computer brokes out into a look of concern, as it takes in how small and fragile their Human looked. It is almost like their Master, Zim’, who looked for weeks now, as if their world was falling in and hope had or was running out.

Wire’s unravelling from around its Master form. Two mechanical hands came down to take their Humans’ faces, careful of his glasses. “ **I have all hope in your bizarre faith. If anybody can save him, Master Dib, it is you, having been the only one in the universe that has stood before the chaos of Master, Zim and livid through it all, to be here by his side**.”

Dib sniffled, dropping the headset to take the cool metal hands, in his overheated ones. A wobbling smile forming.

Computer’s right. Dib had to keep believing. If he stopped for a second, he’d crumble and gave up like Zim; to the darkness of those voices whispering horrible things about them, that never really went away. 

“Yeah, your right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, for the Hits. And for all those who read it and follow, Kudo'd, Bookmarked, Subscribed and Commented! Bless!


	8. "One Day Only Butterflies Left Will Be In Our Chest As We March Towards Our Death."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ¸¸♬·¯·♪·¯·♫¸¸ 𝐀ʟʟ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪ𝐬 ᴠᴀɴɪ𝐬ʜᴇᴅ  
> 𝐁ᴜᴛ ᴀʟʟ ɪ𝐬 ɴᴏᴛ ʟᴏ𝐬ᴛ  
> 𝐇ɪᴅᴅᴇɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴀɴɪᴏɴ  
> 𝐏ʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍ ʙᴇ 𝐬ᴛɪʟʟ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ  
> 𝐈ᴛ·𝐬 ɴᴏᴡ ᴏʀ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ  
> 𝐃ᴏɴ·ᴛ 𝐬ᴜʀʀᴇɴᴅᴇʀ  
> 𝐖ᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ғᴀʀ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪᴇ  
> 𝐒ᴏ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴇᴀᴘᴏɴ𝐬  
> 𝐖ᴇ ᴍᴜ𝐬ᴛ 𝐬ᴛᴀɴᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀᴄᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ  
> 𝐀ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ 𝐬ᴇᴀᴍ𝐬﹐ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ɪ𝐬 ᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛ  
> 𝐅ᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴜʀʏ ᴄʟᴏ𝐬ɪɴɢ ɪɴ  
> 𝐀ʟʟ ʀᴇ𝐬ɪ𝐬ᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪɴ  
> 𝐍ᴏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴜɴ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪ𝐬 ʜᴀᴠᴏᴄ  
> 𝐍ᴏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴅᴇ  
> 𝐅ʀᴏᴍ ᴀʟʟ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪ𝐬 ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇ𝐬𝐬﹐ ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇ𝐬𝐬﹐ ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇ𝐬𝐬  
> 𝐅ᴇᴀʀ ɪ𝐬 ᴀ ʙʟɪɴᴅɪɴɢ ʟɪɢʜᴛ  
> 𝐁ᴜᴛ ᴅᴏɴ·ᴛ ᴄʟᴏ𝐬ᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇʏᴇ𝐬  
> 𝐌ᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪ𝐬ᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ  
> 𝐓ɪᴍᴇ ᴡᴏɴ·ᴛ ᴇʀᴀ𝐬ᴇ ᴜ𝐬  
> 𝐖ʜᴇɴ ᴛʀᴜ𝐬ᴛ ᴅɪ𝐬𝐬ᴀᴘᴇᴀʀ𝐬  
> 𝐋ɪᴋᴇ 𝐬ᴍᴏᴋᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ 𝐬ᴋʏ  
> 𝐖ʜᴀᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴏғ ᴛʜɪ𝐬  
> 𝐖ɪʟʟ ᴡᴇ ʟᴀ𝐬ᴛ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ﹖  
> 𝐂ᴀʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀғᴛᴇʀʟɪғᴇ  
> 𝐂ᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴜ𝐬 ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡᴇ ᴄʀʏ﹖  
> 𝐂ᴀʟʟ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ʟɪғᴇ  
> 𝐂ᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ 𝐬ʜᴏᴡ ᴜ𝐬 ʜᴏᴡ ᴛᴏ ғɪɢʜᴛ﹖  
> 𝐈ᴛ·𝐬 ᴀʟʟ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ  
> 𝐇ᴇᴀᴠᴇɴ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴜ𝐬  
> 𝐖ᴇ·ᴠᴇ ʟᴏ𝐬ᴛ ᴛʜᴇ 𝐬ᴜɴ  
> 𝐂ᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙʀᴏᴋᴇɴ 𝐬ᴋʏ ᴜɴʟᴇᴀ𝐬ʜ  
> 𝐎ɴᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ 𝐬ᴜɴʀɪ𝐬ᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀᴡɴ¸¸♫·¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬¸¸

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovely loyal readers, one-time glimpsers, and wonderful commenters!!! Thank you, so much for all the Hit’s, Kudos, and Comments. It has made me so happy to see any interest, and ecstatic for those who kudo’d and dropped me I main love with those who commented any feedback!!! BLESS! I hope you will continue to let me know if you are enjoying this fic! One word, the key smashes or lengthy novel’s of words, I will take all! Love you guys!
> 
> Remember if you have any comments, you can leave them down in the comment section or on my Tumblr, @apictureisapoemwithoutwords
> 
> I love this story to death, and I am proud of working on this, and how it came to be.
> 
> I’d like, to apologize for missing last weeks update, and I realize now, I did not even announce I would not be posting it and leaving you all to wonder. 
> 
> The missing week brings about some new news, possibly disappointing news. For as much as I wanted to update every week, I think I’m going make it every month, and this is for me, it helps relieve some of the stress just the idea brings. Now, this is no guarantee, but this may still mean every week or every other week or even two weeks. It just depends on what’s going on and how much I get done and how fast. But, I wanted more wiggle room and, it makes me feel less upset that I will be missing a personal deadline.
> 
> I have been getting into Skyrim, want time to mess around and play it, and I have started a project with friends. NOT to mention I have been working on a couple IZ Au’s, including a Crossover between MHA and IZ, a Skyrim AU and a Folklore AU and I want time to build these worlds, which may include written stories for them as well, especially for the Folklore and Skyrim ones.
> 
> On Tumblr, I’ll be at some point at least releasing Moodboards for my Au’s, along with several GIFTS for various friends and just spreading the love for several writers and artist in the IZ community!
> 
> Here are this Chapter’s **Triggers to be warned about:** (Also if you ever notice a trigger I missed, please feel free to tell me.)
> 
> \- Mild to Heavy Description of Injuries  
> \- PTSD Related Symptoms  
> \- Unreliable Narrative  
> \- Self-destructive Behaviour  
> \- Forms of Self Harm  
> \- Symptoms Related to Schizophrenia:  
> 1\. Psychotic - Hallucinations, Delusions, Thought Disorder  
> 2\. Negative - Reduced Motivation, Diminished Feelings of Pleasure, “Flat affect,”, Reduced Speaking  
> 3\. Cognitive - Problems in Attention, Concentration, and Memory  
> \- Major Character Injury  
> \- Explicit Language  
> \- Suicidal Ideation  
> \- Mention of and NonDescriptive Abuse  
> Mention of and Descriptive Violence  
> \- Mention of and none Descriptive Violence  
> \- Blood/Bleeding  
> \- Dissociating Character’s  
> \- Guilt Tripped Character’s  
> \- Poor and Bad Self-esteem, Expressed in Unhealthy Ways  
> \- Vomit  
> \- Extreme Emotional Breakdowns  
> \- Semi to Heavily Descriptive GORE  
> \- Mention of Extreme Jealousy - The to Levels of Riding Other's Seen as Threats to What Is Theirs.  
> \- Mention of Extreme Co'dependacy  
> \- Bad-mouthing of Red and Purple  
> \- Badmouthing of The Empire  
> \- Unhealthy Possession & Obsession of Characters (To the point of “objectifying” and “Ownership”.)  
> \- Gooey Touchy-Feeling Affections of Concern between Dib & Zim. (I probably don’t have to remind you, if you read this far and got passed the bedroom scene, but it makes me happy to remind you of their close bond.)
> 
> One last thing: I won't be adding fancy text anymore. Outside Computer's Bold Only, Hallucinations & Delusions voices in Bold & Italic, Thoughts italic Only and Robotic Voices NOT Computer's Bold only.

Computer is more than just assuming things now, no longer blinding itself to what is before it.  
Its world is crashing and burning, and it allowed this.

Gir, the robotic Sir Unit that everybody often likes to think of as a silly crazed space cadet lost in their own world had stopped pretending all is right, long ago; scared into random and long fits of Sir mode, in a desperate attempt, to draw attention to the enemy in the room.

Computer who should have been the one who heeded the warning signs first, who should have been doing its duty.

How, is it, its youngest had seen the eye-opening severity of the situation, in which their Master was well beyond one’s ability to help themselves?

Never should Computer have allowed this facade to last, for them to play this dangerous game.

What was happening should have been nipped right at the moment it cropped up. But, no, it allowed for the damping mask of falsity. It allowed Computer to hear nothing was as wrong as it appeared. That its Master was fine as the words spoken to manipulate it into not worrying for what those blatant lies hide. The desperate attempt of the foolish ideal of comfort, when it’s smeet was so clearly lost and alone.

And Computer and done nothing to push that comfort it saw their Master needed. To draw Zim out of the grave, they had already begun to dig themselves.

Instead, it elected to ignore the obvious.

The concerning amount of time its Master began staring into space. Their unique alternative ways and reasons, in which he began to speak to himself. And those ridiculously additional security fixes that had not existed, even when a human child bent on ridding the Earth of them or the long-suffering moments of annoying Irken pests attempting to kill its Master.

Too many cries of suffering had Computer blocked out of Zim’s inner torments. Beings not there haunting them even in the bright of day, because Computer knew none of what its Master screamed and feared over could be here within their safe zone - their Home. Nothing could ever get past its security without Computer knowing and allowing whatever to enter. Sure, it may have allowed the hybrid smeets for various reasons, but never would Computer have allowed those who unquestionably posed a threat, not then and not now.

Computer wanted, now that they have all the time in the world to think, to believe so badly, that despite all the red-flagged issues cropping up, its Master knew better. It allowed their smeet to persuade it to hold on to the comfortable idea that these were perfectly normal issues to be expected from an Irken who has proven to be chaotic and unique. An Irken who suffers from previous PAK issues.

One can believe anything so long as they try hard enough. Its Master is proof of the ability to be almost exclusively blind to the flaws, faults and issues in not only oneself but for others. Dib is correct, this annoying trait must be an Irken go too.

And yet, the confidence that it’s smeet will come to them in time, that Zim knows best about themselves, slowly begins to be chipped away, day by day.

First, it was the agitation that quickly became an extreme act of violent tendencies. Violence for an Irkens both in the name of The Empire and condition is not new nor will it ever truly go away in time. But, Zim’s violence was never cold and calculating, never organized with a quick military viewpoint. It is breathed through its Master’s possessiveness to keep what is his and the reckless obedience to prove themselves. To earn a love those Master Zim required it from and would never get, because it did not exist in The Empire's culture or had it ever existed in the opticals of those Zim blindly to look up too.

Computer’s blindness for one who had earned its love, eroded when what looked back at Computer was a stranger. Nothing, like the Zim it knew, now just a creature filled with the wildness of blinding rage and clouded by the sharp calmness only known to the stare of an Elite Irken Firing Squad; as they stand ready awaiting to shoot down all in their path. And in their prey saturated with the untapped fear of something that has nothing left to lose.

Still, it took Zim, collapsing out of nowhere in the labs, the stuttering whirl of his PAK thunderous in the silence, for Computer to see the error of its ways. A forced hibernation is never a routine issue, even for a PAK as ailmented as its Master’s.

Able to get its cables directly attached to Zim’s organic body and running a diagnostic scan on their PAK Computer discovers what it thought had been a hiccup in their sensors. Between what it had been reading and what Master Zim presented; allowing it to base the foundation of its reason as to why it could turn blindly away to their smeets issues. Had become alarmingly undeniable its Master had lowered its base scanning sensors to hide what was happening.

The diagnostic scan that Computer had read during the first lab day, which had turned up only an odd set of variables, was now reading that the surface issues were the least of its smeets problems.

Warnings of an unknown virus that had not only infiltrated Zim’s organic vessel but it’s Master’s secondary life support and memory hub causing a massive, but, agonisingly slow shut down of all processes.

The readouts informed Computer that the makeup of Zim’s organic flesh had been changing since the day its Master returned home. Lately, this change had become rapidly so, thanks to the uncare of his being, helping to further in degrading not only the connections between flesh and tech but eating away at the life of Master Zim, his flesh and data unable to keep up with the massive overload of stress.

In the end, however, Computer had been unable to do its job as the protector, even when facing the issue before it.

A screaming match ending with the ultimate threat of a reality where it’s smeet would go through with shutting it down completely had been the deciding factor of doing nothing.

As suspected from the start and feared by that point, when Computer allowed Master Zim to separate it from the outside forces that helped it gang up on its Master in times like this, Computer had already lost the fight before it even began.

For that, Zim had been able to lock them both out of the lab’s downstairs and has since not returned from them.

Unable to hack out, despite all that it has attempted, Computer’s left with only the ability to pick up the pieces of what its Master has left of Gir’s fragile emotions, and one of its little smeets, longest crying fits. Screaming about wanting to see Mary, and worse of all, asking Computer in such a small, and sober voice if they’ve lost their lovability and usefulness for their Master.

It has made a terrible mistake, and for once Computer is not sure if any of them will come back from it, if Dib isn’t there to fix what they have broken.

Dib, having just entered the codes downloaded into his tablet, from the not Zim security bot. Is not prepared, as he should be. When a high pitch shrill breaks through Computer’s attempt to speak. 

Dropping the tablet, Dib shoves his hands over his ears, glance darting around in an attempt to figure out where the hell that noise comes from, before turning to stare up at Computer.

“WHAT IN MARS NAME IS THAT, SHIT!? COMPUTER DO SOMETHING!”

Computer at these times is grateful not to be organic being. Having the ability to turn off their hearing sensors, the moment that atrocious noise begins is always a blessing.

A sigh, unheard, with the look of desperate big-eyes, turned its way, and what seemed to be its new Master yelling at them to do something. Computer turns to focus on breaking through the last of the crumbling firewall around the room, now left unprotected by the security bot who has vacated its orders.

It is something Computer does not understand. Why would Master Zim need anything outside itself? Nothing could ever amount to its grandness when it comes to protecting its smeet. Sure, Computer may not have held up all that well to this bizarre human child, but neither had they. Did Master, Zim think this inferior-bot would do better? Computer thinks not, so why?

And it leaves Computer slightly miffed, hurt perhaps, and a bit - betrayed at the notion of it all. This horrible half-baked thing, taking its place beside its Irken Master, inconceivable. 

Overriding the pathetic alarm that it could only guess was Zim’s last defence to keep Dib out, Computer feels a swell of pride bringing the room to silence and aiding its human Master in going forward. 

At least, until the look on its smeets relieved face takes on a shocked and frozen look, stare darting away from it, off towards the door. 

Tuning back in just in time to hear the start of what is sure to be a long monologue, Computer fears it does not wish to learn. 

“- his Stinky~human has come to interfere with Zim’s plans. Weeks, and weeks, almost three to be exact, of hard, amazing Zim work broken in - hours… IMPRESSIVE, my hybrid!….”

Dib knows in his heart is not the figure, or figure at all, just another prerecorded message, he wants to see, it’s too easy, - too undramatic - right.?

“Zim had been so sure it would take his human longer, again nevertheless, that big head of his Earth~boi’s has shown Zim it is not all so full of hot air, greasy unwashed hairs and annoying, but not so useless paranormal trivia.”

Computer listening quietly, observes its human smeet, dispirited at what is likely the crushing of a small hope that Master, Zim would dramatically come out to say his farewells in person. It knows better, though, Zim has always been cowardly when it comes to intimacy and the softer side of the feelings that were not Empire cultivated and heavily discouraged among its subjects.

“As a treat, Zim will applaud Dibble’s annoying ability to put his NOSEY persons, were not welcomed and his MASTERFUL hacking and intellectual reasoning to see the lies spoken in riddles, and the half-truths woven in the life or death decisions of survival. 

YES! And shall tell Zim’s annoying Hybrid that the holographic environment simulator of planet IRK is-was, indeed, a future present for his Dib’s delights. SURPRISE, my Stinky! Behold the greatness Zim gifts to you! Any problems that Zim has not worked out Computer will be more than happy to fix, Zim assures the worrying warts.

…. Where was Zim, YES! Knowledge for his insatiable Dib-beasts! Elite Znd was a work in progress for Zim. Something, partly stolen from Zim’s smeethood in his glorious training days! Yet, as before, my Earth~problem has defeated the UNDEFEATABLE! VERY GOOD STINKY! Showing the Almighty Zim, once again, why his Hybrid with a hard-shell and those nasty gooey insides is and has always been above all others, qualified to be Zim’s equal.

Now, Zim understands his Dib has a nasty-nasty Savior complex and has to save everything he obsesses over or believes is his right. But…”

A moment of silence, where nobody says anything, only the sounds of Home-base buzzing away like static in his head. Dib can’t think up a single thing to say. What is the use, anyway? It isn’t his Zim, either, it’s some sickeningly disgusting last-ditch pathetic attempt of a coward who could not face him or life! None of this means anything to Dib. Not when it’s no different from a bone thrown to catch the attention of a guard dog to sneak inside or away.

“... Zim demands…. no Zim asks this single request of his Human. That Dib stop, playing Hero, this one time….”

Computer does not have to know what is coming, to dread what will be said, and for the first time, it feels the heaviness of the world in Zim’s voice. The smeet that never got to be all that they could and should. 

“Please, let Zim go.

Do not shatter what remains of Zim’s carefully coded firewalls and enter his crypt.

Zim has made his decisions and Zim. - Zim thinks he’s earned this last request for being so unselfish and putting his Hybrids filthy Dirtball first. Putting his Dib before Zim as his Human always wished.”

Dib’s clogged, his body shaking and ready to explode, and yet there is nothing there to ignite the needed reaction he so desires. Staring wide-eyed and down at the floor, his vision blurs, he feels ill again, but the need to vomit doesn’t come. Dib preys for the Shit Fucking Bastard to start laughing. To walk out and point at him for making a fool of himself with how emotional he is right now and has been this whole time. That this is all some sort of awful sick new joke; Hell Dib will take an attempt to take over the world again. - 

“... Many things in Zim’s lifetime he has done, as the human says, climbed the tallest mountains” Zim laughs a weak sound at his joke, before continuing, “traversed the deepest of caves to achieve the most glorious and craziest things no one has or will before and after Zim is gone.

And Zim, he has reached the end, his final act of rebellion, and as Zim’s stated, he’s livid amply. More than they could have ever dreamed of doing. With help - Zim supposes, not all without Zim’s say, so. 

... Zim refuses though to be anyone’s pawn ever again. Especially not some truly inferior and unintelligent monster that has used weakness, Zim has no control over to get the best of them.

Zim is nobody’ puppet, my Dib, to use and Zim - he can feel it even now, changing Zim, choking him from the inside out.

And there is nothing, NOTHING! Zim can pull from his magical hats of lucky luck to get out of this one. It’s fatal, INCURABLE! And Zim, Zim has seen first hand on Vort as a scientist what this Virus can do. 

Zim’s seen as many things, my Stinky. - A shillions mistakes, and perhaps a love or two, yes? But they do not want to be remembered as this nasty roaming aggressive and mindless beast who slowly decays from the inside out. -

And of the many mistakes, Zim has made, he’s never regretted any of them. Zim is proud of all his crazy madness of destruction, apathy and yes, Dib~sqush, of the sticky-gooey feelings…”

Dib’s resolve begins to break with each passing second of listening to Zim be more honest, then that Stupid Alien has been possible, his entire existence. He thinks, what if he’s reacting selfishly? What if he’s already lost the war before he even knew he could accept there had been a battle worthy of an actual fight? Would he do the same thing in Zim’s place? How would he feel if Zim was doing what he was now? 

“Now... now, Zim thinks, maybe, yes.. they know regrets. Regret that Zim could not stop his Dib-hybrid from his newest assignment. Regret Zim could not be honest to why his Stink could and should not go on his mission. - Regret that Zim gave up without a fight and for not spending the last of Zims precious moments with his friends and family. Fools who despite all Zim’s flaws. Do not, even now, abandon Zim. Who show, in many different ways, their affection, and love for Zim, who regrets not expressing enough passion in return.

. . . Zim has never been sorry, not to his core, Dib-stinky is right to accuse him of lying. Zim is truly sorry now for his actions that have led to all Zim’s regrets.

So, Zim will say this only once more. Zim is sorry for what they have done. 

Sorry to Gir, Zim’s little robot who Zim loves, no matter how angry. And Zim wants and needs his Trouble~bringing~human to take good care of his Gir now and try not to do that, yes, bring more trouble. Zim requires the use of the boundless humanity of Goo to love them in ways Zim could never. Dib~meats, if you or the Gaz-sister cannot fix Zim’s newest regret… Zim is sure your Parental Unit, or Lord Nub will have more luck.

And Computer…”

Computers tempted to terminate the feed. More now than ever, or at least to turn its hearing sensors back off. It does not want to hear this - this is wrong! These confessions were never meant to be spoken or heard, not ever, not like this... These private feelings of an Irken - should die with them. Except, a part of Computer feels as if listening is what it deserves, punishment for failing in its task to care for its smeet, it’s Master -

“Zim has not forgotten you. Zim could never forget Computer, who has become to mean, so much to Zim in ways, not even his stupid Dib-creature can. Zim, even annoyed and not listening. He has always appreciated Computer. Not always at the moment, yes, for Computer is annoying and does not listen to Zim and back sasses them, and sometimes Zim is sure - attempting to get Zim killed. Exhalant! But a failure, for Zim, is too amazing to-” Zim's voice dies out, with what can only be the realization of his words before he continues. “Yes… Zim needs Computer to know now they are more than just appreciated. Zim has achieved the greatest of objects to the greater species, a parental unit. Better than any squishy Human one, EH!, Victory for Zim!”

Computer is stunned by the words. - They suspected sure, but to hear their Master, Zim speak, what they thought, is jarring, as it seems to overheat a warmth within its processors and sets a chilling finality to an end of something that it had not grasped until that moment. 

“Thank you, for sticking with Zim… take care of the squishy Human hybrids and their Irken brooder, Zim commands Computer to be more open with the Professor. Computer deserves to be free, to be happy...”

And like it was never a question. Dib stands back up, staring up at the metal door where Zim’s buried with all his regrets. If Dib can’t save Zim in the end, by finding a way to cure this virus Dib, at least, won’t let that foolish asshole die with anything less than an annoying smirk on his face and the distant memories of what it’s like to feel regret.

“Zim has already given all administrative rights to Dibble Membrane. Computer, your Master is now a filthy~Dirtchild, congrats! Without exemption Computer, you are to do whatever this foolish thing requests of them, as had been done for your Almighty Zim… to provide meditative protection, unsolicited advice, and a possible help or two.”

Computer finds themselves chuckling. Even when praising, it’s Irken Master never changes. They can see the fire that becomes bright again within their Human, and Computer silently bows to Zim’s commands of exchange of ownership. It knows that in the end, all will work out, its Master Dib will see to it and Computer will as always loyalty carry out his Master’s will.

Dib. . .” Zim’s voice quivers in weakness from too long a speech, a breath now ragged is taken, before speaking in Spanish. “Remember for Zim, always mine, always yours” and then there is a quick session of clicks, trills and chirps of Irken as Zim used and twisted the only two known modern Irken expressions of any sort of love in a somewhat human-like way. “Zim is captivatingly infatuated.”

Back at the console to update, again. Zim has been stopping here every day whenever given a chance. Some days they find themselves only recording silence of their current existence, unsure of what to say, anymore.

Zim’ is tired. They have not had a single PAK charge or organic one in what feels like years. Zim knows different. They had one right before they left on Computer’s annoying insistence. Zim - should not be so tired. Irkens do not work this way. Zim should be able to go months, even years for one trained in Invading like them, without an organic sleep and weeks and weeks without a PAK charge. 

And worse, the worst of all - Zim’s hunger. So hungry, yet nothing looks, smells or tastes good, or can they even hold it down. So they have not had a single fooding or drink in days and days and days, or so it feels. Again, Zim knows better. The insolent-fool-boi provided fooding for Zim during the trip, and Zim provided themselves during the times of the Dib’s recharged. It is all another sign, so much is wrong. The Empire bred Irkens into long resilience, created PAK’s so they may go months without food if needed and a month without some form of sweet nectars or water before complications happen. No more than 15 or so days, yes? And still, Zim is now starving and extremely dehydrated.

His complexion is downright revolting. Zim’s never looked so devoid of life, like a husky corpse. Zim’s magnificent green layers have become a putrid ash, and only darkening more each day his lovely green skin. Zim’s opticals do not glow at all much anymore, that is not right. It is so very wrong, and so Zim cannot look at his reflection anymore. - A stranger, a monster. Disgusting, repulsive, sickening! A deep dark red that darkens as days go. Soon they will be as black as the soulless demons of these silly Earthen’s religions.

Zim hardly feels the beat of his organic core, anymore. They miss its steady, but strong rhythm like the sea that crashes over and over against the shore. Its flutter is now that of the soft bleating of the little Kildfs of Vortian smeets. The only way Zim may hear it over the whirl of his PAK is if Zim curls in on themselves, antennae down, and holding his breath.

Zim is scared.

It all terrifies Zim. 

They were finishing up touches on the chamber and found they could not turn the wrench as they have always been able too. No matter how much power Zim put into his arms, behind his form. And oh, Zim tried, until they shook like wet noodles and wind-blown leaves and his core pounded and stuttered, and they grew light-headed, before his PAK forced a hibernation or as his hybrid would call it, passing out. 

It was the most dreadful feeling Zim has ever experienced. 

Zim has never felt so weak. They question if this is what it feels to be human? It’s exceedingly upsetting Zim even now it makes his mouth slick with dread. How do these worm baby creatures survive being so limited? So seemingly incapable of protecting themselves?

They cannot do this! Zim’s not cut out for being inferior, no Irken is! Maybe, this another truth to the hair of lies fed by this “Propaganda” or whatever the Membranes call it? Are Irkens nothing, is the truth they are all substandard things? 

Zim has seen the Earthen’s at their weakest, and they do not have superior PAK’s. Most do not grow in tubes through genetic experimentation for the finest of chosen genes. All the things Irken do and despite all these things that make an Irken superior…. Zim’s seen inferiors survive an illness that would cripple Irkens. They have seen his Dib-creature beat the odds that would kill even Tallest Miyuki. 

\- And here, Zim cannot fight off a virus his partly Irken Dib completely brushed off as if it did not exist. 

One time, his human survived Zim’s PAK assimilating without assistance to his fragile little organic being, and even the deep life-threatening wounds inflicted taking it off. And yet every Irken known to Zim cannot survive without its assistance.

Reaching over sharper than normal claws, attached to sore odd puffed fleshy parts, they pressed down, with a hiss, onto the red button to begin recording. 

“This is Zim-” Quickly glancing around in narrowed suspicion, they add, “just Zim,” feeling a small bit of relief for a good moment, which his Dib~stinks called them. 

Zim had not understood this meaning, and it had flustered his human. Zim often saw moments of good in a very different way. Now Zim thinks they concede his Dib~worm!baby’s version. 

Ma’tay~Doc told Zim, his version of goods and bads a long time ago. Explained to Zim, they saw life as travelling in space. Space is massive, like all the lucky Irkens lives to live such grand expanses of time, but even Zim’s life is massive when compared to his Hybrids. 

In the previous years, Zim experienced this feeling of being out in the open, exposed, even with their life in the part of his space that held planets, comets, nebulas, suns, and ships that made up various real things Zim came upon in his experiences. Then Earth Stinky came into his life and made it feel inconsiderable immense, as if Zim could reach out and touch all sides, yet still breathe. - Zim hates to admit, but his human made it feel safe, even as an enemy. With his Dib, Zim’s is made to feel vaster than the universe of his vision or even the whole of the universe itself, and it was thrilling! 

Then Zim reached a part of life where his space became bleak, a void sucking in everything. It was like experiencing the point in time of reality when they travelled through a small empty part of space from Irk to Earth in his Voot. Zim felt lonely, even with Gir, and there were many anxious moments where they would do anything to stave off the feeling of his ship’s walls closing in. Gir, as annoying and horror-filled as it felt in that moment to Zim, had saved them from the shadows of whispers reaching out from the silent edges, and the feeling that at any moment space would collapse the halls and crush Zim. 

Now it feels like they have reached the end of the universe itself. If Zim thought life was lifeless and bleak at that point. - This part does not even have pretty space glitter.

“It is the start of week three of Zim’s infection.” Numbly spoking words come after a long bout of silence to his thoughts. A desperate attempt to brush away a new rush of foreign pain, the PAK has yet to release the proper amount of medication Zim so desired. 

“During Zim’s previously recorded victims of The Black-blooded virus, why working at Vort’s infectious labs. During-” They paused, this time for a whole new reason. That entire sentence in his head sounded false. Wrong, so inaccurate. Who is Zim trying to protect? Who is Zim…? “unneeded experimentation, of deliberately infecting Vortian’s! Zim noted in his logs by this week his infected were far past interaction with the world around them. - ”

Zim’s mouth had been so dry as of late, making it hard to talk, even harder to swallow. His tongue, swollen and painful, sticking to everything and yet feeling like the sand-dooms scraping against his unprotected inner layers. It hurt so badly. Made it hard to move at all. 

The area around their mouth looked like his Dib uncared for cracked peeliy lips, repelling!

“They developed extreme hostility and…..” 

Zim attempts to swallow, a throbbing pain flits straight down his tongue, but Zim continues. He has to…

“becoming dangerous not just to them, their caretaker, but to each other, forcing Zim to separate them.” 

A quick, but sharper pain like splitting flesh of a ‘paper cut’ . . . Zim can taste it now.

“In fear, they would kill each other as their paranoia and anxiety -” A trickling of liquid, “of what they were going through. Confusion,” slowly at first, “morphed into hallucinations and delirium causing erratic behaviour.”

Reaching up, Zim holds his hands over his mouth. The new slick warmth inside begging to dribble down his chin and throat the more it’s ignored. 

… Cheeks puffed out, Zim’s forced to open his mouth, exposing his tongue as a rush of sickly sweet-tasting liquid squishes between his fingers. 

Opticals widening, a sickening jolt of extreme pain rips through his tongue.

Down crashing off the chair into the cold metal floor, his form seizes up. Body jerking as blackening pink pools, flood from his mouth, rushing down his throat, and splattering droplets everywhere every time they jerk, choking Zim with screams that go unheard.

Like the rest of Home-base, since Dib first entered, the inside chamber is a quiet and lonely ambience. The only sounds are of that everyday strange rhythmic alienness of Zim’s labs, phasing up and down. Just above a soothing hum that reminds Dib of the times he’s been up in space with an Irken ship. And the quiet buzzing of electronics heard through-out the whole Home-base. 

However, for the first time since he started this hellish day, there’s life to it. 

A beep residing deeper within the darkroom across from him, just beyond the viewing window, is slow and unsteady. A sound like no heart monitored Dib has ever heard before, but it doesn’t matter that it sounds strange, wrong in a way it has never sounded so, because it means Zims’ alive! 

Unlike the rest of the corridors, a mix of dim-lit corner’s and spotted with low red visible light, shrouded in shadows and invisible ultraviolet light that only Computer detects, this room, is lit by a soft cool silvery-blue, which to Computer’s sensors show to be a warm white light. 

It reminds Dib of slivers of moonlight on their hunts.

Calling out, “ **Master,** ” in a tone as soothing as it can, Computer is unsure if it is for one or both. 

A metal hand landing on Dib’s shoulder makes him jump right out of his skin; heart-pounding, having picked ever so, the longer he stands in the door’s frame. Too caught up in his own thoughts to realize he’s not alone, he’s never been, and to paralyzed to go any further.

Dibs’ scared of seeing Zim in any state other than his best, -

Not because, like bug boi, weakness bothers Dib. At least, not the way it bothers his Alien. Dib understands living things, even used to be, and now - never has been organic, all have moments of weakness. And there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a part of who you are, of what makes humans and other forms of life so flexible, so adaptable. 

He’s learned you can’t be tough forever, or you end up like Zim; falling apart at the slightest hiccup, at least, the ones his Bastard doesn’t talk himself into crazy up’s over and jumps through mental hoops to overlook and ignore. 

And they’ve taught Dib a valuable lesson, Irkens of The Empire, that is. Weakness is strength in its own right. It’s good to be weak now and then. To experience what it’s like to need others to know and be accepted. It helps make you sympathetic. Lets you understand other’s suffering, even the kind you have never suffered.

It’s just seeing Zim as anything other than that snarky, up in your face, sneering undefeated little space Roach Asshole, who laughs at his own stupid nonsense jokes, and has more pride in what he does, in himself and what he thinks then all the humans on the Earth.

He doesn’t know how to explain it, other than it’s alarming. 

Computer speaks up again when his human Master still has not moved; body tense at the door with his head down. “ **We have to go in. The longer we allow Master, Zim to stay in this state -** ” It pauses, not sure what to say next “ **… the harder it will be to save them.** ” 

“I know.” Dib breaths out, then sucks in a breath, trying not to crack.

That Stupid Zipper Mouthed Lizard needs him again. A part of Dib, - the ugly part, - it’s alive and hungry at the thought that his Scummy Space Bug needs him, and only him. ‘ ** _It’s as it should be_** ’, it whispers, ‘ _ **how it has always been and should always be before those others joined us.**_ ’ Joined Zim’s side and became as relevant to his Alien as Dib. 

Sometimes, this voice makes Dib resentful. It leaves behind the taste of dirty sadistic thoughts of what if he just got rid of them? So Zim only had him, again.

Dib always assumed - boasted really, that it was he who didn’t need anybody, and it was ZIM who needed him to continue. The weak, lonely little Alien that nobody wanted. In truth though, Dib knows without him, his Space Boi would survive and go on not much worse for wear. After all, Zim survived far longer than Dib’s been alive or a pitiful idea in a half-breed's mind. It’s Dib who will crash and burn, who is desperate that he not be left alone, who can’t or won’t go on.

It’s so wrong. 

So disgusting. . .

. . . even for Dib.

Zim is his own person. He belongs to nobody - NOT Dib…. NOT The Empire… NOT any Tallest… nobody. Zim may choose who is or isn’t, woven into the fabric of his life and if his Alien chooses him to be by his side, all the better and a good case of FUCK to those Red and Purple Bastards, who said differently. 

Closing his eyes and chin held high, Dib steps further into the room; then again and again, until he’s across, knocking into the window, Zim has locked himself away behind. It stings a bit, but the physical pain makes Dib feel alive. It pushes the fear back, and he wants to do it again; ram his head into this stupid viewing window, that separates them. See how many times he can get away with it before Computer stops him, or Zim does, even better, right?

Before Computer can comment about Dib’s slowness, or question if he is alright, which he is not. Dib opens his eyes. A horrible choking sound emits in the back of his throat, at what lays before him.

It’s dark inside. Dib can’t see everything in all its glory, but he wishes he couldn’t see as much as he does now.

The room itself is boring - nondescript. Just your average, Dib always guessed, Irken medical or torture dungeon meant to house whatever poor sucker they were doing tests on. It’s empty now mostly, except, unlike the other testing chambers Dibs has been in, the wall between what Zim referred to as the pace room, and the containment and monitor room no longer existed.

The medical bed is still in the far right-hand corner. It’s high tech, far more advanced than an Earth hospital. But, unlike them, debatable on where you end up, it’s not meant to be comforting to subjects. It reminds Dib of those beds in the nuthouse the doctors forced him in; cold, callous, it’s masterpiece, the large metal and crudely cushioned straps hanging off from the arm and feet area. 

A vivid, but low light monitor hangs mounted on a movable arm, just within reach of the bed, not attached to anything, at least by wires as it takes notes of Zim’s still form.

Staring at the mess, Dib takes notice of how violently he shakes. The kind he’d imagine he’d have developed from years of substance abuse and the withdrawal of every comedown had his life turned out different, and Zim hadn’t been there to stop him.

Dib couldn’t, no he had to, had to hold on. Why is he breaking down of all the times now, again? What the fuck was wrong with him? Maybe Zim is right; Dib had no control, no sense of duty of - 

“FUCK,”

Hand slamming into the glass, legs gave out, crumpling to the floor, pressing his face into it, hands under to cushion him. 

Dib couldn’t breathe, it’s like his lungs have shrivelled up and something blocks his throat, maybe it’s his heart. Mouth dry, like cotton, and the acidic taste of stomach juices that linger from earlier.

He can scarcely hear, over his hyperventilating panic-induced sobs, the voice of Computer. Can hardly feel the cool sleekness of wires wrapping around him, hands there to hold him, to protect him, as his world crashes around him.

It’s getting harder to move around. It wasn’t so much the excreting pain bothering ZIM from the shifting of bones, muscles, and the various other horrifying changes his body’s been rapidly going through.

Zim could do this dull roar of pain, well, they are not so sure if it is a dull roar, anymore. No, certainly, as an Irken, and because they are PAK wearing, and have been through so much worse - Zim’s made themselves Almighty! This twisted sense of pain is remarkably tolerant after dealing with both his Irken training and the years of wonton abuse to his body.

In fact, the idea of Zim’s body changing is exciting from a scientific standpoint. They have never seen this sort of thing before, not involving this Virus, at least. Was it evolving because Zim is not as weak as they believed and yet working into his DNA because they are not a healthy PAK wearing Irken? It is as fascinating, as it is horrifying. No Irken before them had been allowed to be in such a state, either thrown into a decontaminating box with the necessary needs to rid their body of this monster or killed where they stood the moment it became apparent they were infected.

What made it hard to move around is all the excessive bleeding, every time new things sprout, split or shift on Zim. Getting that black sticky liquid that darkened and congealed Zim’s blood more and more each day, over everything, is revolting.

Zim is disturbed, prickly, furious. 

They cannot get anything done if Zim’s busy cleaning up his useless fucking messes. 

A flashing glow catches Zim’s attention, thoughts slipping away, and they turn, confused, as to what it could be. Nothing in the direction makes such things happen… 

Except, there standing in the chamber door, Zim had not heard open, stood… themselves.

“EH!? How did you materialize without a Hologram-phraser?” Zim straightens, sneering at the him that Zim created for his Foolish-Dib’s program. 

At least, that is what Zim believes until the him, that is not Zim, smiles; cruel and cold, before a faked sympathy overcomes its impostor expression.

“ ** _The inferior me is mistaken,_** ” it says in the degrading form of Irken, one Taller uses to speak to a Smaller.

Zim makes an undignified sound at the tone and words spoken about them. Facial expression stalling to shocked confusion, antennae dropping back and down as that thing continues. 

“ _ **that disgusting simulated thing is not Zim.**_ ”

The other brings up its claws, inspecting them in their sharpest Irken state, as they speak, before flicking invisible things off in Zim’s direction. It’s gaze down upon them, reminds Zim of the barely contained hostility and loathing they saw in their Tallest before they existed no more.

“ ** _Worthless, failing weakling, I am Zim, who is honoured by their Tallest._** ”

Hunched over and body shaking, Zim growls low, lips vibrating against rows of newly sharp bared teeth, antennae, drawn back and warning. 

“ _ **Irken Subject 1-**_ ”

Zim does not let it finish. Just hearing that detestable code branded to them at creation.

Sneering, they launch themselves across the room at the imposter. A split moment before Zim can reach out to cut it to ribbons, that thing smiles as if Zim has already lost.

An echoing crackle follows Zim. It’s haunting, hollow, and far away. His face, with a sickening crack, slams into the closed metal door of the test chamber. Darkened pink, now almost a blackish-red splatter’s across the door and trails above Zim as they slip forward. Dazed and confused at the two fracturing images before them; a closed door and an open one…. Zim does not understand.

The laughter directly behind now slows and ebbs off. That annoying hideous lying voice, speaking up, bubbly, so full of itself. 

“ _ **Look at Irken Subject 13:9-Zm2, less than what he could be? Or right where he should be? Yes, yes, Zim likes that best!**_ ” Words turning venomous, “ _ **Zim feels such pity for the poor ugly inferior hairy things, friends-**_ ” the last said as if it was the most disgusting thing ever to grace its tongue. “ _ **stuck with Irken Subject 13:9-Zm2, of all the schamillions of Irkens that should have them.**_ ” A vicious laugh of malice humour. “ _ **oh, well, more so a hundred or probably less. Who is to know how many Irken, Subject 13:9-Zm2’s gotten killed, this time around?**_ ” Their voice, now almost impressed.

Room no longer spinning and edges no longer trying to pull Zim under their shadows of nothing. Slowly turns, blood seeping down his face, to the intruder and growls.

The imposter, the fake, ugly not him smiles, no fear, just amusement. It makes Zim feel like it’s observing something pitiful, and NOTHING looks at Zim that way!

“ _ **Cruelty to these ugly little Dirtball dwellers, on that-**_ ” its face twists into a sneer, a deep growl emanating from its chest, makes Zim’s long sickly rattling one pointless. “ _ **hairy worm child. Having to be stuck with Irks lowest of its filth, it’s washed up trash, a weak-minded defect. Sir Units serve more purpose with honour to The Empire!**_ ”

“LIES!”

Caught up in hearing their deepest darkest truths revealed to them out in the open, Zim launches himself at the other, again, without thought to any consequences. 

How had some random Irken gotten past all Zim’s superior security, passed Computer’s? And Computer and Gir themselves, disguised as Zim? This horrible lying inferior wears Zim so poorly! Even his Dib creature could have done better. Has done better! Zim would not lose to something so obviously subordinate pretending to be him.

Zim crashes with an echoing crack as they slam chest first into the medical bed. The pretender, there and then not - in a blink before impact.

A broken murderous scream tears through Zim’s throat, as they fall into a heap of limbs, blood and brokenness. So much pain radiating from the pieces shattered deep inside of his upper-lower section. Still so tender and sore from all the shifting it has done. For the new arms that have begun to grow from the sides of his body. 

“ _ **To think the soon to be Almighty Tallest Zim must share any part of themselves with this... An Irken who cannot follow the basic Irken Codes. Not only for their Empire but the honour of a proud Irken and kill themselves after being so compromised. What are you waiting for, nauseating SIR?**_ ”

Zim shakes violently, body going into shock as PAK whirls in hot-white blistering heated stress. The single thought of Dib, of Computer, of Gir... flickers through the haze of numbing, black suffering.

“ _ **Oh, oh, how gross, hoping to be saved, to be wanted and loved?**_ ” The imposter begins to crackle. “ _ **Has he forgotten, tricked himself, deluded the organic meats within. . . No-one wants the mistake. Nobody cares about a broken toy. Saving them all the work of getting rid of what should not exist, themselves. Here let Zim, the true and only one worthy of being help all.**_ ”

Zim sees a flash of silver and sparks of blue in the corner of his vision, opticals widening in horror at the realization of what it is, before an electrifying pain rips through his PAK and chest; a scream dying on his lips.

Like the rest of Dib’s life, he’s struggling with a hurricane of unwanted emotions and thoughts. One moment he’s falling apart, suffocating in the sorrow of loss and guilt. The next so enraged with his twisted views of betrayal and wounds infected deep, never allowed to heal.

Shuddering pain rips up Dib’s arm, fist having connected with is supposed to be unshatterable glass. 

He doesn’t remember getting to his feet or throwing the punch. - Why? Is it to gain the needed attention of the high and mighty sleeping beauty over there? No? Or? Possibly? Who knows, who cares, Dib doesn’t.

His palms slap repeatedly against the glass, like a child throwing a tantrum, the rush of need to scream at the top of his lungs until there is nothing left for him, drowns his every thought, except, it’s not the screams that leave Dibs throat upon letting it all go, - 

“YOUR MY BEST FRIEND ZIM! YOUR OTHER SHITTY SQUISHY INFERIOR HUMAN SIDE! HOW DARE YOU TAKE THE COWARDS WAY OUT! HOW FUCKING DARE YOU CHOOSE DEATH OVER US, OVER ME! WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT SELF ASSURED, NARCISSIST EGOTISM YOU CHARMED ME WITH HUH, ZIM!?” 

Tears stream down dirty raw cheeks, sting like mini blades, voice cracking, faltering. 

' _It felt like, - how can, -_ '

“WERE SUPPOSED ‘to ru’LE THE UNIVERSE TOGETHER, -” 

The words ablaze like super-heated air; rippling down his throat and scorching every nasty thing from the inside out; Dibs, sure he’s dying too, but he can’t seem to stop now that he’s started.

“- remember?” a sob, thick and sticking “y EVERYTHING, Zim.” Voice-breaking with that name, so quiet Dib isn’t sure he even said it outside the jumbled mess of what makes up his head. 

Legs weak, body trembling.

Another rush of hurt and misplaced resentment; imbedded and cultivated year after year, - 

“I THOUGHT I was, YOURS too!”

A gurgling choking of air takes the place of words, and a charged silence follows.

‘ _We wrote it together, in our rules, when we agreed to a truce: No more secrets, no more hiding what we felt. A promise of equals, to do everything together! YOU Bastard! You LIAR! We said we promised! Our weaknesses, our fears be damned. I told you EVERYTHING, you fucking asshole… I BLED MYSELF DRY!_ ’

Dib felt drained, he’s tired, so very tired of fighting all the time. He can’t even be bothered verbally expressing that issue aloud.

Maybe, he’d stop - simply give up too.

Movement from the corner of the room catches Dibs attention. Weighted down, he glances up in a sluggish stupor. There deep within the shadows of the medical bed, where Zim is lying hidden under it mostly, from view, he moves. 

For a moment, Dib thinks that he’d gotten through, that he had that Bastards undivided attention.

Oh, he has Zim’s attention.

Like a bucket of ice-cold water spilt over him, - Dib watches Zim’s pathetic attempt to move further into the dark; away from where he is. 

Something snaps within, a rush of venom to his veins.

Weak little slams from red stung palms increase to pounds, again and again, and again. More violent and louder than the one before. An anthem of demand, a command to pay one mind.

HE will ignore Dib NO MORE! Stand here and allow Zim to do as he PLEASE, never again without Dib’s say. That Shitty Alien, that menace is HIS! To do whatever the FUCK Dib, so pleased. Irke- NO, ZIM has NO RIGHTS! 

”HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME! YOU FUCKING ASS! YOUR SELFISH! YOU SELF-LIVING, IRKEN SCUM! ALIENS DON’T HAVE HEARTS! ZIM YOU CAN’T JUST CHOOSE TO ONE MOMENT GIVE EVERYTHING UP. I HAVE DONE SO MUCH FOR YOU! I LIVID FOR YOU! FUCK YOU ZIM! FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU! YOU DON’T GET TO PICK YOUR BATTLES! AFTER EVERYTHING YOU’VE BEEN THROUGH TOGETHER WITH ME! EVERYTHING YOU DID! YOU DON’T DESERVE DEATH! IT’S T-” 

Screeching like a mad man, Dib’s forgotten he’s not alone. That Computer is there, watching, and silent, unable to think of a single thing to say. Should it stop its Human Master, from saying something he will come to regret later? No, because what said needs hearing. Will what he says hurt them both, most likely as it always has, maybe in a small way Computer is also punishing them all. 

Lost between emotions and where he ended, and Zim began. Dib is high. He is low. Mad as a hatter and sane all the same. Gutted and filled with so much he understands and that in which he doesn’t.

As awful as Dib feels, as angry as he is, - what gets him is he’s always scared of losing something, someone he should loath from the bottom of his empty heart.

“Why couldn’t you just, ask for help? Incurable or not. THAT WASN’T YOUR CALL, ZIM! YOU INSENSITIVE FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT!” Lonely chair, there beside him, Dib reacts, “FUCK YOU ASSHOLE,” the shattering of glass, follows his words, “I FUCKING HATE YOU!”

He’s a lost little boy asking, why? A child who cries in his room, alone, when nobody will play with him, and he doesn’t get that they do not understand. Sticks and stone will break bones, but losing your only loyal friend will kill you.

Parts, broken under a sudden iron grip, cutting through flesh and bone, Dib doesn’t feel it’s stinging slice, as he stares, panting, at the spiderwebs that crack across the window from an inhuman force. The arm of the chair now embedded within its shattered mess.

As if nothing there before, the fire is out, and the coals have cooled. The monster has come and gone, seeping out from the wounds that produce red liquid dripping off fingertips, taking parts that are still a stranger in the night. 

“W-we could have, could have done something… I don’t know, slowed it down, somehow? Until I could find a cure. Why couldn’t you trust me, Zim, to help? Do you really find being stuck with me worse than this?” 

Wobbled steps, Dib finds himself back at the window, peering inside through fractured pieces, bloody palms smear against its rough surface. A heated forehead bumps light against the chill of glass. Dib imagines its Zim. Eyes closed, no strength to search for the reality of the mess that has become of such a strong Roach like God, - Zim haunts his every waking and sleeping dreams, anyway. 

Computer, having seen enough, prepares the astonishing feat of robotic multitasking of emergency medical care for two stupid idiots now, rather than one.

“Please, Zim-” ‘ _I don’t want to be alone._ ’

“ **Rebooting . . . Awaking, Irken Subject 13:9-Zm2, from Hibernation,** ” a voice devoid of tone, robotic and quiet, even as it echoes around the silent room. 

The vital monitor, previously quiet, picks up. Zim’s body twitching, where it crashed upon the floor; hours ago, before arching sideways, the beeping becoming a high-pitched screeching as the minutes pass and the luminosity of the PAK’s lights pulsing a dull, bright red; 30 times, before lowering to a glow, hardly seen.

For a few moments, there is no movement, no sound of life, outside the steady beep of monitored light, and then opticals slowly opened; dull, disoriented, glancing around; seeing all and then nothing. 

Thoughts come clear as filtered water, and yet they are distant and floating in a sea of nothing. 

‘ _Hungry . . . ,_ ’

‘ _So, hungry._ ’

Struggling, Zim picks themselves off the dirty floor. 

A whispering hollowed voice speaks, 

“Zim’s so hungry.”

Light - red, upon the console catches the Irken’s attention. Stopping, they stare at the fascinating blinky light.

‘ _What is that_?’

‘ _What should he do_?’

Wobbling over… they stare, thoughts filter in and filter out, as they slap a palm down over the button. 

The horrible sound that comes through, almost makes Zim jump; if only they were faster, too react. 

“MAAAAAASTA!” 

‘ _He knows... this voice. . ._ ’

A voice not heard in days, weeks, months; who is to know how long down there, in the dark… in the silence, alone.

‘ _So hungry. . ._ ’

They wonder if this is real. It has to be accurate, yes, yes, yes? Gir’s voice, their little robot has to be authentic?

….. The - last time, what was the last time something spoke to them outside - shattering this reality that sticks, Zim, within.

‘ _Does it matter_?’

Zim does not wish to hear whatever annoying crap the useless little voice spurts - it is not real, - nothing is real.

Almost lifting the hand to silence the voices,

Gir continues. None the wiser to their Master’s uncharacteristic, chaotic, insane and disjointed thoughts.

“VISITOR! MASTA WE’VES GOT MAIL!” Excitement, so evident in their voice. Even without the noise of the little robot, bouncing, around the room. - 

A crash echoing over the line, a second later, followed up by Computer’s strict tone telling Gir to calm down.

\- Tense silence and Zim speaks, “Gir?” 

Question, statement… clarity... Clarity,

A flood of slick coats the inside of a once dry as ash mouth, that Zim has to suck down the sudden sweet bitter liquid filling it. 

Face twitching, the corners of cracking, blood-covered lips lift. Something unnatural... something inIrken - and yet, so very Irken . . . lost or never truly found; Ancient, possessed with craze and predatory, devoid of all morals, but one thought. 

“Master will be right up, go’d Gir.”

‘. . . _Zim will eat._ ’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, for the Hits. And for all those who read it and follow, Kudo'd, Bookmarked, Subscribed and Commented! Bless!


	9. Addictive Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
> |.----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------.|  
> ▌║█║▌│║▌│║▌║▌█║  
> ··Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ·ᴛ ʜɪᴅᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴡʜᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ.  
> Sᴏ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍɪʀʀᴏʀ﹐  
> ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ﹐ ᴡʜᴏ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ sᴇᴇ﹖  
> Tʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴘᴇᴇʟs ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ﹐  
> Is ɪᴛ sᴛɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ﹖  
> Oʀ ɪs ɪᴛ ᴍᴇ﹖  
> Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʀᴜɴ﹐ ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ·ᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ғᴀʀ.  
> Sᴘʟɪɴᴛᴇʀs ᴏғ ᴍʏ sᴏᴜʟ﹐  
> ᴄᴜᴛ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴋɪɴ﹐  
> ᴀɴᴅ ʙᴜʀʀᴏᴡ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ.  
> Yᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ·ᴛ ʀᴜɴ﹐ ʀᴜɴ﹐ ʀᴜɴ﹐  
> ғʀᴏᴍ ᴛʜᴇ sᴍᴏᴋɪɴɢ ɢᴜɴ.  
> Cᴀᴜɢʜᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏssʜᴀɪʀs  
> Oғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴡᴇ·ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ  
> Tʜᴇʀᴇ·s ɴᴏ ʜɪᴅɪɴɢ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ.  
> Nᴏᴛ ᴀ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ sᴀғᴇ.  
> Wʜᴀᴛ ɪs ʟᴏsᴛ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ.  
> Sᴏ ᴇᴍʙʀᴀᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss  
> Aɴᴅ I ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴇʟᴘ ʏᴏᴜ sᴇᴇ﹐  
> ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʙᴇ ʟɪᴍɪᴛʟᴇss﹐  
> ᴀɴᴅ ғᴇᴀʀʟᴇss.  
> Iғ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ.··  
> ▌│║▌║▌│║║▌█║▌║█  
> |'---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------'|  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kajsdlaskda !!! Kudos: 64, Bookmarks: 12, Hits: 1113, HOLY SHIT! Thank you so much!!! ajkdhaskjd WOW, I know I love this story, no matter how hard a time it gives me, but to know you all love it this much as well is mind-blowing!! Thank you again!
> 
> We have finally reached the uphill section of the battle, for this story! And a wild feral Zim has appeared! Don’t be fooled he’s far more lucid than lets himself appear to be. <3 
> 
> Remember, if you have any comments, you can leave them down in the comment section or on my Tumblr, 
> 
> @apictureisapoemwithoutwords
> 
> \- I completely forgot about the moodboards, minus one for a friend, as I haven’t been on Tumblr at all. I’ll try to change that this following month and remember to reblog things. 
> 
> Here is this Chapter’s **Triggers or Squeeks to be warned about:** (Also, if you ever notice a trigger I missed, please feel free to tell me.)
> 
> \- Non Descript Injuries  
> \- Unreliable Narrative  
> \- Self-destructive Behaviour  
> \- Mentioned Self Harm  
> \- Explicit Language  
> \- Mention of Dysphoria.  
> \- Blood/Bleeding/Fluids  
> \- Guilt Tripped Character’s  
> \- Poor and Bad Self-esteem, Expressed in Unhealthy Ways  
> \- Gooey Touchy-Feeling Affections of Concern from between Dib and Zim.  
> \- Borderline mention of sexual in nature thoughts and actions from Dib.

“ **Master Dib, before you rush forward. I think it would be best if I were to sedate Master, Zim**.” Computer declared, observing as its human smeet got ready to enter the cell.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Peering over his shoulder at Computer, Dib spoke, “that senseless jerk’s so high on pain meds. Zim probably assumes earth’s flat, and the universe ends at the sky.”

Computer couldn’t help but concede that 99% probability, given the readouts monitoring its Irken Master. However, its human Master had not been present when all hell broke loose.

“ **Very well, Master Dib**.” Computer spoke after a long bout of silence. A metal hand reaching down, nonetheless, to stop its smeet for a second, as another provided a taser gun. “ **If Zim… turns into a threat, either you do this or I will**.”

“ **Ma’ster…** ” Computer spoke, their digital voice cracking in its momentary living-like expression and emotion of shock.

What came up from the deepest parts of the lab and stepped out of the shadows before them, into the living room was not its Master, or at least, one Computer knew.

Zim’s optical’s, now almost pitch black, shifted a millimetre in Computer’s direction. Their pseudo pupils seem to vibrate in place, adding to his unhinged aura.

A quick glance over at Gir peeking out from behind the couch where they hid, Computer can not get over how eerily quiet they are. Despite moments ago so thrilled about seeing Master again, that they bounced around the room, threatening to damage things.

Computer unable to recover its voice. For the first time in its nonliving life, and the possibility of its living one. There’s nothing to add or more per se Computer fears, whatever might occur if it revealed what it thinks.

After all, Computer is incapable of having gut feelings, like breathing beings possessing organic bodies. Nor does it remember relying on such a primitive concept as a living Irken. Even their animalistic instinct to survive should no longer exist, and yet, it did.

Somewhere deep down understanding, the wrong words would contribute to its end. Identifying even now every line of its code, it’s Master ruled. It did not know why it believed this. Zim had not threatened it with such things, at least not in a long time, and never before was a threat perceived as a concern.

Maybe it is in the way Zim acts if you forget the physical changes outward now. Not being turbulent, or speaking to himself, freaking out over something or another, even the twitching or crashing into hibernation felt more its Master. Or it could be none of the above. 

Computer knows, for sure, one thing. Zim, not talking, only observing from the edge of wherever they now find themselves, is patiently waiting to be given a reason, and that puts Computer on edge, for once holding its voice to submit.

“ **... you are looking better than before, Master. We are pleased to be in your gracious presence, again.** ”

When Dib enters the room, it’s as if he’s a Zookeeper entering a wild animal’s pen why that dangerous, unpredictable creature still roams around. However, Zim does not move from his fetal position hidden away in the bed’s shadows over in the far corner of the room.

So Dib gets a little bolder. Slowly bending, he places the gun down upon the floor at his feet, ignoring the disapproving noise Computer’s makes. To give credit where it’s due. He never takes his eyes off his Alien. He’s not altogether stupid - thanks so much. Though, in reality, it’s more like Dib’s afraid if he looks away, Zim won’t be there when he looks back.

Standing up with less care, he takes his Roaches unmoving form as acceptance of his presence, or one that is not entirely unwanted, before moving a little faster to close their distance. 

Failing to notice Computer does not follow, instead, hovering right outside the door; expression of intense worry and fear, its gun still pointed at its Irken Master’s form, as much as it pains it.

By the time Dib’s crossed the room, his eyes have adjusted as best as they can. What he sees has gotten no better. 

It’s worse, so much worse.

Blood, both human and Irken, stains the room, but mostly every inch of Zim, Dib can see. It’s disgusting. He’s never seen his Bastard fall this far as if everything Dib’s known to be real has been stripped away.

The clothing Zim wore now lays like garbage over the floor, in bloodied shredded strips that Dib knows at some point his Bug Boi will mourn; loud, dramatically and as annoying as a single being can be. And, for the first time, Dib’s waiting for another chance of something so wonderful to test his patience.

Taking stalk of Zim, Dib realizes not only is his alien naked. What he’d mistaken as scraps of cloth clung to his lizard’s middle are two new arms wrapped around their frame, hidden in the shadows of his Aliens main ones.

Glancing down, a part of Dib is both excited in the discovery of finding out something new about Irken’s and wary of more change, of something else to chain him down to what Dib’s brought upon them. 

Making a noise of relief, only finding only two legs, Dib counts small blessings. But, if he’s is honest, he’d have rather seen six new legs then find Zim so frail.

The asshole’s physique has always been leaner than most. Notably, that tapered waist that no human could ever achieve with their “useless” organs and their “horrible” placement, or so his Space Bug likes to puff at all the beauty magazines, mocking and chattering on and on about how amazing they are.

So, Dib knows Zim’s body better than he knows any human body, maybe even his own. And Dib knows Zim’s bones have never stuck out so much. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but he can spot the differences even now because his Aliens vanity knows no bounds.

Despite not being an Invader anymore, Zim’s anal about what they eat, how much they exercise and keeping up with all those stupid ridiculously vigorous training regimens that Dib once attempted, claiming he could do it better. Of course, he couldn’t. He’d given up ten minutes in, gasping and wheezing as if dying.

The Scum laughed for weeks on end at him, gloating and mocking. Only to drag him out of bed, one day, early in the morning, still very much asleep and without his glasses, tossing him out his window, before proceeding to chase him down the block, scaring him half to death. Then told him, “good job, stinky,” as that jerk dumped him sweaty and confused back in his room. Leaving with only one warning, be better prepared. Cause he’d be back.

Hovering beside, not over, Dib whispered, “hey… Space Boi,” scared he’d freak them out and make Zim react violently, but the only thing his Alien did was to attempt shrinking further in on themselves.

A low-frequency purring, starting up almost similar to an earth cats’, yet so very Alien all the same. Zim must have been holding back, scared, because Dib hadn’t heard it, and now it’s reverberating loudly in the small room. 

A few years ago, Dib learned, Irkens purred when hurting, mentally or physically. Mostly when alone, but in rare cases in the presence of someone they trusted. Trust, Zim trusted him, and Dib had broken that trust, and still, his Roach felt safe enough to show pain, to be perceived weak.

It broke Dib inside, as much as it soothed the deep rot that settled between the cage of his ribs. 

“Come on, buddy.” sucking in a breath, Dib tries again, “I need my favourite Irken… My only Irken, to look at me, Zim, please...” The last part, pathetic - pleading, but if it showed his Alien how badly he needed them, Dib would do it again, as many times as his Space Bug required.

As time passed, Dib thought he’d have to reach out and grab the Asshole without the Bastards’ knowledge or permission. When Zim shifted, two lightly glowing red’s peeking out behind closed lids to observe Dib.

Breath caught in his throat, Dib stared back until unwelcomed wetness began to streak down his cheeks. 

“See, he’y,” words catching in his throat. “it... wasn’t that hard, huh, Space Boi?” seemed so small. “Look at them little crescent blood moons,” their stupid opticals, so wrong, “you got going, Zim,” A joke, Dib felt like his Roach could tell he’s pulling shit out of his ass. “a fascinating Alien as always.”

Antennae lifting, communicating interest, for the first time since Dib found Zim here, fear and surrender are not at the forefront as their long silent stare off, as it ends with a slow blink. 

A sob, tearing out of Dibs throat, he held his hands out for his to see. A muted request to touch, blinking slowly back with a wobbly-smile.

Dib’s never felt so happy, then at this one moment, like everything in the world will be alright.

“Yeah, back, full force,” because words of love are never spoken, “at cha’you, you big idiot.” but shown.

Reaching over when granted permission, Dib grabs Zim’s face; thumbs slide across unwashed, ashen dark green skin. It’s freaky, feeling dried blood and other fluids Dib doesn’t want to think of, even if he can smell them, flack off and rub underhand, like grit. Surely this is madding to his Alien, if it bothers Dib, of all people. However, his Roach doesn’t complain. Instead, closing his eyes, quiet clicking noises starting up over the purring.

It wasn’t often Zim, even with Dib being the third closest thing to comfort and safety the Alien could trust, made these sounds. One, it’s humiliating, or it used to, Dib supposes. Not so much after all years of it happening. Still, his Space Bug did everything in the book not to allow these natural sounds out. So when Zim let go, it both set Dib on fire and paralyzed him. Moments like this were precious and delicate, like all the planets spaced between galaxies aligned. Where Zim let go and permitted Dib to see his carefully guarded walls crumble, and his Alien trusted his hybrid to take the pilot’s seat; to protect, to love, to be the one that held all their cards. And Dib would NEVER take that for granted again.

Computer noted little feedback to its comment, outside the slight narrowing of Zim’s opticals. Likely trying to determine if there was an underlying meaning to its words before they either found nothing or did not care enough to over analyze it as its Master typically would.

“Initiate protocol 3H4Tprep. Security override 244 93 56pgm. Voice confirm I.S ZM2,” Zim spoke, typing in several codes into the wall panel he’d installed last week. Computer assumed to keep it or Gir from overriding his authority.

Confirming with its Master’s request, Computer, instantaneously feels the code’s extra security bindings on it ease their hold, just sufficient to give Computer room to hang itself if it acts out.

Gir, still silent and unmoving, and as far as Computer hopes unnoticed, colours flicker again. This time, it was not random or done so in shock. And Computer took careful notice of what Gir said, as it regarded their Master, who pulls out a device from his PAK. Recognizing it as the holographic collar Zim created a few years ago to taunt their human, that its Master could construct a realistic disguise that fools, even Dib. And it had until their human sensed Zim’s particular personality, no amount of technology could cover.

As its Master opened the door to greet the poor government employee, with a zero chance of survival, unlike its human child; its Master has come to cherish, his form flickers, and what stands before Computer’s sensors, is none other than Dib or what is supposed to be them, a smile stretched across his features that looked both out of place and yet so familiar of the past.

Bending down to press his forehead to Zim’s, which is hot, too hot to be remotely normal, Dib remembers Computer noted when they first entered the labs that the thermostat was down as far as the controls went. And he’d agreed, already practically freezing, goosebumps running along his body. Now he was shaking, his breath and Zim’s puffing clouds of white.

Irken’s doesn’t run anywhere as warm as humans on the best of days, coming from a hot gasses planet. Their PAK’s are what helps keep them warm or cool on planets their invading, scouting or exploring different from their own. 

And according to Computer, his Aliens been down here in the over-conditioned underground labs since returning home from their trip.

“I’m going to move you,” Speaking as Dib pulled away, he continued to cradle his Space bugs face. Who made a noise that sounded like disapproval but kept their eyes closed and didn’t argue or agree passed that.

“Sorry, Mr Almighty, have it my way, but we need to get you to a proper medical lab. This chamber looks like some horror torture faculty straight out of an indie sci-fi game my sister might play.” Grinning down at the silver of narrowed red peeking up at him, “plus, I’m Dib fricken Membrane, honorary Alien hunter. It’s my job to make your life hell.”

A low growl vibrated against Zim’s lips before sharp, bloody red and black teeth bared; the smell wafted out, horrendous, but Dib forced a smile and swallowed back the need to gag, not wanting to insult or worry his Roach.

“See, that’s the spunky violence, making this all the more exciting when I defeat you,” Dib spoke, breathing through his mouth as he tried to rial Zim into reacting further. Into being more lively as he gathered up his Assholes unhelpful form from the icy floor, distressed to find how light they are.

Despite how people saw Zim, how he’d seen his Alien, the Roach was a weighty opponent that hit you like a semi-truck and felt like a boulder trying to squash you.

One time too many times Zim, sat on his chest with all their weight, holding him down with PAK legs - cheater, as the Scum threatened to suffocate him. Although, it was only once that they came close. It had been GIR who saved his Space Bug, having to bring him back from the dead when that Bastard calmed down, laughing lightly, at the memory of Gir screaming at Zim about being left out of the cuddly pile party, only to knock his Alien off like a rocket launcher instead of joining.

Narrowed opticals open more at the sound before antennae lower to illustrating contempt, to whatever about it upset Zim.

“You know Space Boi, with all your extra spikey features...” Dib went on, trying to find them both in a comfortable position, lips perking for the best part, “I feel like I’m picking up a porcupine!” The vibration from Zim’s real growl against his chest felt odd, but welcomed.

Computer, a being, composed of technology, some of the finest: Master, it’s human, and Mi Nɛkt̪ɔ all have gloated at some point. And of course, there’s its original Irken brain, making up Computer’s fundamental foundation, which allows it to develop as an individual day by day. The extraordinary quality about it that so few, if any, AI possesses. The part of Computer that makes it Zim’s, and only it’s Master’s; unique and beloved.

No other AIs can compare, unfit to control the overload of processing, Computer can. It still suffers nightmares from years without a single break to cool down and rest. Despite that, it’s prospered and survived. 

Built to withstand calculations in prediction algorithms based on billions of paths, in a matter of milliseconds, one or many entities might take, and how something should turn out. And with its living brain, it possesses something even those that can do this did not. The ability to calculate spontaneous events or Computer should have been capable of achieving all that.

Computer’s an Irken Elite Commander, or at one time, had been. They should have been able to out-think and outsmart anything, even someone as chaotic as Zim, because he is a subject of sequences and predictions. So long as somebody bothered to learn them.

Now, all it could think of were Dib’s speeches. Repeating like an echo down in the lab, “ _No amount of technology, and even living things, can accurately predict the natural chaos of other living things. It’s called the human factor here on Earth, something mysterious. Only the universe might know what can and will happen_.” It is why it’s human, loves to say. So many societies based on the liability of technology will collapse one day. Why, the Empire would one day succumb to being just another mark in history, as all human Empires have. And it did.

From the moment it first witnessed the human pull out tricks neither it nor Zim could foresee, or when its Master pulled stunts over the sensors of The Empire’s ever-vigilant watch, all those years before.

Computer agreed with this assessment more than ever. Still, it thought, between it and Gir, particularly with how chaotic, practically living like Gir is, and Computer’s genuine portion of living aspect, they would be an asset. They could anticipate anything. And considering with whom their Master is deep down. Who he’d grown to become - Zim should never be a legitimate threat to them. They were always supposed to be safe, no matter how furious Zim became. They relied on its Master’s softness when compared to other Irkens, even to Computer. It didn’t matter if its Master was dangerously destructive and a hazard to all around him, Irken. Zim had shown his cards to them. And if The Empire bothered to pay recognition to Zim’s uniqueness in the formulations of his DNA from the moment of their creation, they’d have terminated him.

So confident, Computer was that nothing could modify that part of Zim that established him special. That its Master would never resort to such barbaric cruelty, to the subjects, he perceives as his, even as an enemy, Dib was spared. 

But Computer gravely miscalculated the prediction of outside changes to its Master that would manifest what lay buried so deeply within.

Not until those claws slashed through Gir’s construct, their little body flying across the room, followed by the couch shattering the TV. They all shared, often perched in front of together, to experience their interpretation of family time. The sickening crunch of a heavy piece of furniture thrown with adequate force from an Irken, weak or not, still strong enough to crush in the chest frame of Gir’s virtually indestructible built.

Now human is barely alive, and will not last much longer. Not that Computer is in any rush to save them. Given the data provided from Zim’s testing of this species’ endurance, back in the beginning, no amount of time would preserve the human now from these grave injuries inflicted, well, none that Computer would bother with involving a random human.

That did not stop the effect of seeing that things frame swung carelessly limp from PAK legs. Or the sickening impression of observing them shish kabobbed through its unprotected fragility before two PAK legs pulled out with wet slop.

For a moment, Computer is at a stalemate with its Master. It considered that, until that point, Zim might disregard the extra weight in favour of either withdrawal or better movability to strike or defend from it. Instead, all its Master did was shift the human to the bottom two PAK legs. Curling them around it’s broken frame for better assurance that his property would not be stolen or slip away during transportation.

A deep growling hiss, devoid of ‘humanity’, yet bearing within intelligence, conveys what Zim sees of Computer in his delirium.

The spines along its Master’s back, shifting and rattling, as Zim drops his frame to all fours, body lowering as close to the floor as he could get.

Limbs bent as the upper PAK legs came down, with split ended claws, taking up the place of the limp new arms that hang uselessly at his side. Computer figured they had to be no further than a day or so formed; judging how small they were; no muscle mass. Meaning they were at the moment useless to its Master, he couldn’t even lift them yet.

“ **Master, do not force me to treat you like a threat** ,” Computer whispered, ‘ _don’t make me your opposition_ ,’ knowing they were beyond that point.

Zim’s antennae lowered forward, flicking and vibrating with Computer’s words: who hoped that meant its Master listened. But all that came about this action was the black and crimson that dripped down Zim’s chin, bubbling and spewing out between sharp clenched teeth, exposed by lips stretched back with the warning sound that grew louder the longer their standoff continued.

Computer stared back into those darkening black opticals with a new bright red, reaching its resolve.

“ **I am sorry, Master**.”

It didn’t take long for Dib to notice something was wrong outside the blatantly obvious. 

At first, he tried to ignore Zim’s sudden strange behaviour. Well, stranger than usual. Even though Dib knew how wrong and it was. Not just that, his Alien had gained an odd desire to lick at him like some demontated cat lapping milk. But, for one, when Zim licked you, it was like having a slimy, squishy wet segmented flex pipe run along your skin. What Dib felt was anything but that, something more like having squishy wet sandpaper made of barbs, bristles and spines scrape across his flesh.

When his Roach first drew his tongue across the junction of his shoulder and neck, it had startled him, but he’d said nothing and continued to say nothing, even though it wasn’t the most pleasant feeling, especially the longer Zim licked.

Dib figured, high on Irken pain medication, it was a new activity that brought his Bastard comfort and helped relieve stress, and they were so out of their mind Zim wasn’t registering what they were doing. 

Or maybe, it was the fact, so far, although they’d been together in each other’s company for several minutes, his Alien hadn’t spoken a word. Only making noises, grunts, growls, hisses, and chirps, which happened with each lick. And although their actions were sluggish and bizarre, there’s this distinct feeling everything done so far is needed at that moment and carefully controlled by Zim. 

So, when a sharp ripping sensation sawed through his shoulder, almost making Dib drop the Scum, instead he held tighter, pressing his lips into thin lines, and bit down on his tongue to hold back any sounds that might alert Computer.

It took several seconds to comprehend Zim broke through the skin just above his collarbone. The tip of his Aliens tongue digging in under the layers before stopping and drawing back as the pain began to numb.

A second later, his Space Bug began to hum, head lifting before lips sealed over the wound they’d made, and it hit Dib. A horror-filled realization that Zim wasn’t seeking comfort or wasn’t doing so the way a typical person or Irken would after what he’d gone through. That Bastard was snacking on him!

A memory of organs made Dib’s skin crawl, but there was this even stronger feeling of interest to see how far this would go. Just like when he hadn’t stopped the licking, letting his Alien act according to whatever bizarre nature had overcome them.

If Zim had somehow turned to Vampirism, it did explain the other Alien’s obsession and the mess upstairs. And who was Dib to stop the freak from taking something he could give willingly? It was the least Dib could do after what he’d caused.

Dib had plenty of blood to spare. Normal humans already gave 2 pints in one donation, and Dib was sure he could get away with three without being yelled at too much by Computer if they figured it out, which they would, at some point.

At least, that had been the plan until everything went to hell, again.

Now he was stumbling through the Medical Lab door, dizzy, lethargic, and lightheaded. His skin suddenly chilled and clammy as excruciating pain radiated from his hands and part of his chest. Dib could feel his heart pounding away, and nausea twisted his stomach in knots.

“ **Lay Zim on his side, Master Dib, then SIT, on the other bed** ,” Computer ordered. Sending several hands down to collect numerous medical tools; out of its storage draws, cabinets and bens, all while another set ripped down the sheets of the specially designed medical bed for its Irken Master’s and got the various machines ready.

Dib didn’t argue, quickly making his way over to the bed, highly aware that Computer would not miss how uncoordinated and wobbly he’d become, and hoped that Computer would chalk it up to the burns. Rather than what Dib was sure was a mixture of blood loss and burns, equalling as bad as the shock that set in.

“Shit!” 

Ok, maybe he’d pushed a little too far.

Grimacing through clenched teeth, Dib shifted Zim against his cooked skin, carefully laying them down as Dib had seen Computer do many times before.

Thankfully, unlike most of those, his Alien wasn’t complaining and not because of their odd behaviour or pain meds. 

And the Bastard had the gall to lecture Dib on putting addictive toxins into his bloodstream.

This time, it was due to Zim’s PAK overheating, to the point it had burned Dib and forced itself into hibernation to cool before it melted important circuity or the Roach, any more then it had already.

“W-what, what about Zim? You-”

Computer cut its human Master off with a pair of scissors; point ends displayed away from the boy’s face.

And in what the Dib liked to call the parental unit tone, spoke.

“ **Master, Zim will deal. His readings, why critical, are not as dire as your own**.” Before carefully laying Dib down, “ **You foolish child. Do not think I have not noticed what you are hiding**.” Several hands shoving pillows under his legs, “ **Remember I am, even now this home, and I track everything living or not in my walls**.” Another two carefully taking its smeets left arm and hand.

Dib whined, glancing away at being caught, at what, he wasn’t sure yet, or if he had been. Computer only knew what they could read in their data sensors logs. Unless Computer lifted the extra restrictions between one lab and the next, they couldn’t know what was wrong or that Dib was hiding anything. Outside observing his behaviour and theorizing.

Looking away from Zim’s gruesome still form, that looked far worse under the brightened fluorescent lights above. Dib concentrated on Computer’s monitor hovered above him, eyes closing as the scissors began to cut into one of his favourite outfits. Well, Zim already ruined it, Dib supposed.

“ **You’re not wearing your binder**?” Computer commented, why cleaning an untouched spot on its smeets hand, as another two of its hands got the IV drip and needle ready.

“... Oh yeah,” Dib said, blinking, “forgot about it, this morning... left in a hurry.” 

He wasn’t going to mention the only reason he’d forgotten was not because it slipped his mind, in the rush, or Dib that hadn’t needed it, but because it was a bad week, and he hadn’t worn it as punishment for his actions with Zim. 

Dib know that was an unhealthy thought and habit, and it considered self-torture, which was wrong. He and Ma’tay had spoken over the subject. But Dib figured it could be a lot worse. He could be using previous methods that physically hurt him.

Computer observed its human smeet is alarmed with Dib’s sluggish and stuttered behaviour, having lied about its sensors. 

Calling out its human Master’s name and continuing to talk Dib, it brought forth the medical scanner, why another couple hands finally got the IV needle in, taped and fluids pumping through the child’s abused body. 

“ **Master Dib, do not worry, Master, Zim has many spares located in storage somewhere down here that were not ruined like yours upstairs**.”  
  
Computer watched Dib’s face light up in amusement before he began laughing, then twitching and shaking, fingers curling in with the rest of his limbs, even the one Computer had a hold of. Before its smeet though better, face twisted in pain from wiggling around and stretching redden, blistered skin.

Scanner signalling its finished, the results shock Computer, it did not understand how.

Dib finally stopped withering in pain and pried his heavy eyes open. 

“That bastard would... huh,” Dib mumbled, feeling even more guilty at the way he’d treated Zim. The way he always treated his Alien.

Dib didn’t understand why that Asshole would go so far for him, of all people. What was so great about sad-pathetic Dibble Membrane? That something as amazing as Zim would give two shits about him?

Weren’t they supposed to hate one another for all entirety? Or until the Green Lizard enslaved the human race and either killed him or kept him long enough to watch him suffer what he could not stop? Wasn’t Dib supposed to capture Zim and cut him open, display all their insides out to the world? 

“ **I don’t understand how you lost blood** ,” Computer read over the scans, ignoring Dib’s mutterings barely understood as Computer prepared for a blood transfusion as well. 

Thankfully, for the Master’s paranoia and its peace of mind, they were stock up on their hybrids blood.

Now that Dib thought about it. In some sick twist of fate and irony, both have gotten their wishes in some form. Dib saw Zim display for him, their insides in the actions and words they took that was everything The Empire saw as weak, a defect within. And Zim, he’d gotten Dib willingly to get down on both knees before his Alien, willing to do almost anything for Zim, even die if it saved the Bastard.

Computers glad for already started fluids as it seemed part of the reason for its human’s sudden downward spiral is his body going into shock. It really is bad when one knows the signs because one has seen it one too many times to be healthy for its smeet and for Computer’s ‘heart’, No parent should ever have to deal with that.

Dib, who’d gone quiet, staring over at Zim, suddenly shouted, “he’s such a creep!” startling Computer.

Turning back to stare at Computer, Dib continued, “always with the touchy-grabbing, OUCH!” Dib glared at Computer as another needle is stuck into him, this time not so nice.

Of course, the warning goes in one ear out the other as Dib continued to wiggle around, free hurt arm swinging about.

“- walking in on people...” Dib raised an unsteady brow at the blood bag that was added to the IV drip stand and shrugged, “like privacy, that Bastard, it exists you know!”

Computer sighed, although in nothing but fondness.

Dib’s heating up at the fact, maybe a handful of times he may have been instrumental in ensuring that Green Walking Stick walk-in at the seemingly worst of times. 

It’s not like the Bastard ever cared or like Dib was breaking any boundaries. He was sure Zim knew. That Asshole always seems to know.

After all, it was his Alien who’d burst into the bathroom when they knew dam-fucking well Dib was in there naked as the day he’d been created, to get a rise out of him! 

Maybe, the first couple times, Zim had not understood, but after being hit, bitten, and things thrown at you enough times, not to mention yelled at and told you had to stay the hell out of somebody’s bathroom why they showered or used it for other reasons. That Asshole had to understand by now.

Finally collecting its human smeets arms, so they would stop moving them around. Computer looked over their work; the ruined outfit, thankfully cotton, had been removed as was the light chest cover protecting its Master’s delicate but small chest parts. 

The scan showed a puncture mark just above the collarbone. Though there had been no blood, there is a corresponding hole in the shirt, ‘interesting.’ 

“Eh, it’s not like... I need to wear one,” Dib said, wiggling his fingers, much to Computer annoyance. 

Who noted the sudden change in topic to was the previous one.

“Just those days..” Dib grimaced, “I feel, the thing, you know?” At the thought of those small moments of dysphoria, that seemed, so very large at the time.

At the current moment, Dib wasn’t feeling it. It was one of the few things he wasn’t feeling, so technically, he hadn’t lied to Computer when he said he forgot.

At least, the sudden intake of fluids, blood, and what not made his head feel less like everything was happening at once. Thank the universe for Irken medical crap, Dib guessed.

“Ugh, I hate those days. I only wore one at school because I thought I had to all the time.”

Computer studied, its smeet, thoughts formulating on what it was working on, rather than interrogating its current human Master on the oddities or replying to Dibs line of thought.

“ **I will need to administer an anaesthetic**.” Already knowing the answer Computer would receive, as it was only said as a formality, rather than asked as a question.

“No, anaesthetic...” Dib shook his head as he spoke, feeling woozy to point the edges of his sight tunnelled, “can’t... I just, I don’t know... throw myself, under a disinfectant spray, scrub down... let you magic, my injuries away?” Annoyed at just laying there being treated when Zim needed him more. “I don’t, have time, to sit around... do this shit, Zim needs me.”

Computer huffed. “ **If you were Irken with a PAK, I may be persuaded to allow such foolishness. But since you are not full Irken, nor do you own a functioning PAK** ,” Computer quickly added, “ **attached to you**.” 

Glaring at Dib before continuing, “ **to allow such a thing to be done** ,” This speech, must be carefully phrased so as not to insult and further anger its human Master’s fragile pride. “ **to one with an intricate organic structure and complex systems would be disasters**.” 

Quickly Computer added, “ **I doubt you would like to lose feeling in your chest or even worse movement of their limbs.” Was it true? Not at all, “especially, at such a fragile moment of Master, Zim’s life**.” 

Computer was the worst, but it would say or do anything at this point to keep them both safe, even if those words hurt and dug into places raw, bloody and infected places.

Dib’s face fell, feeling shame swallow him whole. He hadn’t thought of that and was just willing to rush forward without any sort of thought. Just as he’d been asked not to do - promised himself he would not do, at this time.

“I guess... I gadda deal with this too, for him, huh,” Dib spoke, becoming compliant and allowing Computer to do whatever they must. “It’s just... he’s spent, so long doing everything alone... We both have.” 

Looking passed Computer, Dib stared at Zim feeling sick, voice coming out smaller than he wished. “I just… wanted to remind him, something he’s forgotten.” 

The pressure behind Dib’s face made him laugh bitterly. “That every single moment... no matter what, we’re in this together. Think, thin, good, bad, ugly. No matter how mad... or what we were fighting about.”

Computer quietly sighed, virtually patting itself on the back for subduing its Human Master so efficiently.

“ **However, I do have to give you an area numbing medication. Some of these are severe burns. As stated before, partly Irken, Master Dib, meaning you are still human and even Irkens needs pain medication when hurt badly. Master, Zim point in case. You’re lucky you’re still standing after your selfish and stupid stunt. If Z** -”

“WELL, HE’S NOT AWAKE T-S’HIT!” Dib winced, now glaring at Computer as if it’s all their fault. Before continuing, “are they, Computer?” 

Both of them went quiet until Dib felt like more needed to be said. 

“In fact, if I hadn’t come by because Dad called me, worried about you guys.” Making sure to add extra emphasis on ‘you’, “he wouldn’t be saying shit for the rest of my life!” 

Dib felt his overworked body protest to the stress of getting angry, and the taut cracking skin pulling.

Two metal hands doing nothing came down and took its smeets face. Computer not pausing in its work, shifted its Monitor to face Dib head on, again. Their Irken features within getting that soft look that angered Zim as he thought it looked like pity and nobody pitied Zim. But this is Dib. He took the look as a dying man took to some religious figure.

“ **You hybrids, are too good to us**.” Computer smiled, as it stuck the human with needles. Observing Dib attempting to act like that had not hurt or that the words did not affect him.

“ **I may not say these so-called squishy emotions enough; self-preservation, maybe even pride being in the way. But I am glad my Master, Zim, was exiled here. He may have lasted much longer on whatever universal luck out there. Here, though, with your strange obsession with them, even when all you wanted to do was to cut him up and pin them up like a collective insect, is what has kept my Master alive, I think. Zim is intelligent, highly so, even more so then I sometimes. But, they are still rather stupid in many areas, including decision making when emotionally compromised**.”

Dib stayed quiet, watching Computer and maybe kind of wishing for a hug now from them. Rather than just a tender cold touch of the hands-on his face. Not doing very well with keeping the tears at bay anymore. Or getting mad at the fact that despite being told NOT to give him ANY kind of anaesthetic. Dib hadn’t missed the bottle those needles had taken from. A little numbing his ass. 

Letting up on his angry mask, Dib groaned, “I guess, you guys kinda saved me too.”

It needed to be said more than ever now.

Because as much as it hurt to think about it. Dib didn’t trust his father to have ever been truthful to them about him, about them. Not until they stop ageing the way the surrounding kids did, which would happen here soon. Until Dib looked in the mirror as an almost forty-year-old, and still only seeing a twenty-year-olds looking back at him.

Dib made a face of anger.

The most fucked up part of all that is. Even then Professor would have come up with some shitty lie about the miracles of REAL science, probably to his own dying breath.

Dib couldn’t see Professor ever becoming the dad he was now, without Zim and his shitty Irken Empire. Couldn’t see them getting along without Computer’s quiet input to fix what should have always been.

What he could see of them is getting to the point where the hate was real, rather than petty and hurt. Where one wanted the other dead and why the other became invisible.

A path where Dib left home, never to return. Where he fell into that dark place of no return. Because he didn’t have Zim to pull him out in one way or another.

Hell...there was a time Dib attempted to drink himself into the grave. A very short period, but it could have been worse. His dad didn’t seem to care enough to do anything about it, or he cared too much about his fears than the actual harm it caused Dib. It wasn’t even Gaz who stopped him. She cared, she worried, but not enough to do anything about it.

It was Zim, that fucking annoying, overbearing, controlling green queen who did what nobody in his own family had cared enough to do, stop him. It’s one of few moments his Alien has been truly enraged by his actions. Held him down and forced the whole bottle down his throat when he found out.

It was the first time in a long while, he’d feared for his life. Thought he was going to die choking on alcohol or vomit. Remembered Zim’s words clear as day. That if he wanted to drink poison, then he should do so properly and die as he wished.

It was one of the few times Dib could see past the mask that made up that idiot. Zim looked like he was having fun, scaring the shit out of him, watching him drown in his own making. But, scared, struggling, even he could tell Zim was upset, that the anger was really fear.

Believe it or not, it worked. He never touched another alcoholic drink, not even for the fun at parties.

Sorry... it could not carry out what its Master silently requested of it.

To think, as messed up inside as it smeet seemed, after what Computer thought, there is still a notable part of its Master that made them Zim, when all else is stripped away.

Computer knew it was not due to some sudden morality for hurting a random human. Zim never cared for humans. It may not even be the fact its Master injured something his, something precious to them. It was that part that despite his loyalty to a horrible fault, they still fought the control over them that The Empire, The Brains and now this whatever, attempted to cage Zim within.  
The part locked away behind the hollow, now reflected back at Computer, expressing, its Master wanted to be stopped. For Computer to go through with the threat of being treated like an enemy.

A part, all Irkens have, a fear deep within, that Dib and many other humans; quickly found fear as well - losing control over one’s identity and actions, something Irkens under The Empire and Brains were robbed of.

A grab here, a slice there, a growl, a lunge, a swipe. Just a sorry excuse of a smeet’s pursuit game. As Zim jumped around, clinging to his prey while they claimed the walls, overturned furniture and attempted to get down the hallway.

In the end, it was its Master who hurt themselves the worse, trying to avoid poorly aimed attempts. The slices, why small, still bled, and the more Computer sliced and Zim crashed into things, the more its Master bleeds over everything.

Until Computer gave up altogether. Watching its Master scurry down the hallway and disappear into the human’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, for the Hits. And for all those who read it and follow, Kudo'd, Bookmarked, Subscribed and Commented! Bless!
> 
> **P.S** I wanted to try a different approach to being transgender. As much as I love all the stories out there, I always feel a little sad I never see many variants in the people who are trans. It’s always wanted surgery or had it or struggles heavily with dysphoria, but never the guys or girls don’t struggle all the time or who choose not to or don’t want surgery. So, I decided this time, Dib was going to be that sort of Transgender guy, and it’s nice to see somebody this way and still see themselves, and those around them see them as the gender they choose, even if it doesn’t fit in a narrower box.


End file.
